


Head Above Water

by walkalittleline



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, No Magic AU, discussion of addiction in later chapters, physical therapist!Caduceus, rating will increase later, side widomauk, swimmer!Fjord
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 61,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkalittleline/pseuds/walkalittleline
Summary: When an unexpected injury ends Fjord's last chance at going to the Olympics, he's left bitter and searching for direction. He doesn't expect to find it, and more, from his physical therapist.





	1. Chapter 1

His life is over.

It might as well be, at least. The words _ torn rotator cuff _ may as well have been a death sentence the second they left the doctor’s mouth. He’d barely heard anything else she’d said as she’d begun rattling off treatment options and assuring him he almost certainly wouldn’t need surgery, a high-pitched whine ringing in his ears as his life crashed spectacularly around him.

Seven months until the Olympic trials. He should have paid attention to the soreness in his shoulder the past few weeks. But he’d ignored it, chalking it up to the grueling practice Vandren had been putting him through in preparation for the trials. He’d told himself it was nothing to worry about, taken to icing it every night before bed to try and lessen the stiffness. And now he’s here, sitting in a hospital with his arm in a sling after half-drowning himself at the sudden, agonizing pain in his shoulder during his warm-up laps around the pool.

_ Idiot_.

He can’t take Vandren’s disapproving look when he walks shamefacedly out of the doctor’s office clutching the referral to a physical therapist and half a dozen prescriptions for medications he doesn’t care to try and pronounce. Maybe one of them will just put him out of his misery. 

His shoulder aches but it’s nothing compared to the stony silence during the drive from the hospital to the pharmacy. He can’t even occupy himself on his phone with his right arm bound to his chest in the sling, taking instead to staring through the truck window so he can avoid Vandren’s gaze, which he can feel on the back of his head every minute or so.

When he shifts the truck into park outside of the pharmacy, they sit in silence for a long, torturous minute before Vandren sighs, long and heavy, and Fjord braces himself with a grimace.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he says in his slow drawl, voice laced with disappointment, maybe betrayal even.

“I didn’t think it was anything to worry about,” Fjord grunts in response. He’s not lying. Though he thinks he might have been lying to himself convincing his brain that it _ was _ nothing to worry about. He’s been swimming long enough to know that shoulder pain like that is never nothing.

Vandren sighs again and Fjord can practically hear him shaking his head.

“Fjord,” he begins, “you know you won’t recover in time.”

“I know,” Fjord says gruffly. Of _ course _ he knows. The doctor had said it would take months of physical therapy to get back to even baseline recovery, much less build himself back to where he has been.

“You know… four years is a long time for a swimmer,” Vandren continues with the air of telling someone their dog just died, “you’ll be thirty-two then, Fjord, I don’t think—“

“I know!” Fjord snaps, finally turning to him furiously. “I know I’ll be too damn old then, Vandren, _ fuck_, you think I haven’t been sick to my stomach thinking about it since you dragged me out of that pool?” He lets out a humorless laugh that cracks in his suddenly tight throat. He shakes his head and blinks rapidly. “I lost my last fucking chance. _ Fuck._” 

He buries his face in his free hand, scrubbing his fingers over his eyes and sniffing thickly. He takes a deep breath, starting when Vandren pats him on his uninsured shoulder stiffly. He was never good at affection.

“Look, kid, I—”

“Don’t,” Fjord says with a shake of his head. “Please, just…” He sighs and pushes open the door of the pick-up, climbing out a little awkwardly with his arm still in the sling and heading inside. 

He gives the pharmacist his pile of prescriptions and slumps into one of the worn vinyl chairs next to the counter to wait, his shoulder throbbing dully. He turns his phone over in his free hand, debating whether or not he should text Beau and Molly about what happened. The thought of them pitying him makes him feel vaguely nauseous, though, so he decides against it. They’ll find out soon enough when they show up at his apartment that evening for their weekly poker night. He thinks wryly that he can at least allow himself a beer now that he doesn’t have to worry about the strict diet Vandren has kept him on for the past few months during training.

He jolts when the pharmacist calls him over for his finished prescriptions, wincing at the sharp ache of pain that pulses out from his shoulder at the movement. She gives him a sympathetic look as he fumbles one-handed with his wallet to pay for the medication and he cringes inwardly at the thought of being looked at like this for god only knows how long.

“Thanks,” he grunts, snatching up the bag of medication and quickly digging through it for the pain medication so he can struggle to get it open and shove one into his mouth and swallow it dry.

Vandren is half-dozing in the truck when he steps back outside, climbing into the passenger’s seat and slumping against the window sullenly. He hears Vandren inhale like he’s about to speak, relieved when he merely sighs and shifts the truck into reverse to back out of the parking space instead. Fjord tilts his forehead against the window, closing his eyes and savoring the coolness of the glass against his skin and the low rumble of the truck engine.

Twenty minutes later the truck pulls up to the curb outside of his apartment complex and he steps out onto the sidewalk with the bag of pills clutched in his left hand. He silences Vandren’s weak offer to help with a scowl, barely hearing his orders of “you better stop moping and find a damn physical therapist” as he shuts the truck door forcefully.

He climbs two flights of stairs up to his apartment, growling in frustration when he drops his keys and bangs his head against the door as he leans down to pick them up. He kicks off his shoes and all but throws the bag from the pharmacy onto the coffee table before collapsing onto the couch, slinging his left arm over his eyes and trying to ignore the ever-present pain in his shoulder.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he grumbles trying to fish it out of his pants, glaring moodily at the screen and feeling a faint pang of guilt mixed with nausea-inducing dread when he sees Beau’s name on the screen.

** _Beau_** _: how’d practice go today, dude? Break that record yet? _

He doesn’t want to respond. The thought of Beau’s horror and pity he knows he’ll see when he tells her makes him want to vomit.

** _Fjord_** _: can’t talk right now; you still coming tonight? _

** _Beau_** _: yeah, I’m picking up Molly at 7, he’s lending Yasha his car _

** _Beau_** _: is it my turn to buy booze or his? _

** _Fjord_:** _ yours, I think _

** _Beau_:** _ dammit _

** _Beau_** _: alright, see you tonight _

Fjord responds with a thumbs up and tosses his phone onto the coffee table. He rests his arm over his eyes again, clearing his throat against the sudden burn building in it. He releases a shuddering breath through his lips, swearing under his breath as his vision blurs with tears of aggravation and anger and a bone-deep sense of loss that leaves his chest feeling hollow and cold. 

He’d been so sure that this would finally be the year his life fell into place, has been barreling forward so fast with that thought in his head that he doesn’t know where to go from here, like he’s been pulled to a screeching halt on the edge of a cliff with no direction. Swimming has been the center of his life for over ten years and in the span of barely two hours he’s gone from working his way towards an Olympic trial to a nobody with a busted shoulder. He prays Vandren doesn’t talk to anyone from the local paper that has often covered his meets, written fluff pieces about his progression from “local orphan to future Olympian”. He can practically see the headline burned across the back of his eyelids.

_ Olympic Hopeful’s Last Chance Ruined _

_ Dreams Crushed Because He Was Too Stupid to Realize His Shoulder Was Fucked Up _

The subheading might be an invention of his own self-loathing but that didn’t make it any less accurate. 

He shifts his position on the couch so there’s not as much pressure against his shoulder, staring blankly across the room at the nearly barren wall, empty apart from the TV he never watches mounted to it. He’s not sure if it’s the pain medication or sheer exhaustion but he’s asleep within minutes.

He bolts awake from a dream of being surrounded by cold, rushing water, pouring into his mouth and filling his lungs. He’s breathing heavily, skin slick with sweat and eyes darting around the room now filled with the orange glow of the sun setting outside. It takes him a full five seconds to realize the steady thump he’s hearing is someone knocking on his door rather than the crash of water pounding in his ears lingering from the dream.

“Coming,” he says, hastily wiping the back of his hand over his mouth and scrubbing sleep from his eyes. He winces as his shoulder throbs painfully, quickly popping another pain pill before heading to answer the door.

“About time,” Beau says, sounding aggravated as he opens the door. Her frown goes from annoyed to concerned as her eyes land on the sling still holding Fjord’s arm against his chest. He swears internally at forgetting to remove it.

“Whoa, what happened to you?” Molly says, peering over Beau’s shoulder to gawk at him.

“Hurt my shoulder,” Fjord grunts, stepping aside to let them in and avoiding Beau’s wide eyes. He takes the opportunity to unclip the sling and shrug out of it, grimacing at the stiffness in his muscles from disuse.

“What happened?” Beau says disbelievingly, both of them following Fjord into the living room and Beau setting the six pack of beer she’s carrying on the coffee table. 

Fjord considers trying to play it off, but he knows there’s no trying to bullshit Beau as long as they’ve known each other. She saw throw it in college and would definitely see through it now.

“Torn rotator cuff,” he says with a sigh as he sinks back down onto the couch.

“What’s that?” Molly says curiously at the same time Beau says, “oh, shit.”

“Basically a death sentence for me,” Fjord says, smiling wryly as he looks up at them. Molly still looks mildly befuddled, Beau close to horrified, but it’s the pity behind both their eyes that makes him want to shrivel up into nothing.

“Dude,” Beau says in a hushed voice, “that sucks.”

She flops down into Fjord’s old armchair, plucking a beer from the pack and popping off the cap to take a large swig, looking unnaturally pale.

“I’m confused,” Molly says, perching on the armrest of the chair and selecting a beer for himself. “Does that mean you can’t swim anymore? The trials aren’t until June, though, right? You’ll be fine by then.” He looks between the two of them, frowning.

Fjord laughs humorlessly, shaking his head.

“I’ll be lucky if I’m able to swim at all by then,” he says. “It’s… bad, Molly.”

“Do you need surgery?” Beau says in that same careful voice, as if Fjord has just announced he has months to live. He feels like it, at least.

“Doctor doesn’t think so,” he says miserably. He grabs a beer and twists off the cap, draining half of it. “She said she’ll have to see what I look like after a few weeks of physical therapy. See if it helps.”

“Hey, man, if you need a recommendation, the dude who helped me after I fucked up my ACL last year was great,” Beau offers. She grimaces and takes another pull from her beer, staring down into the bottle. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry.”

“Can we not talk about it?” Fjord says pleadingly. “I really just… I don’t want to think about it.”

“Sure,” Beau agrees, nodding as Molly does the same.

“Oh! I could talk about my date last night!” Molly says excitedly, smacking Beau around the back of the head when she groans in annoyance.

“I’m not listening to you talk about it _ again_,” she gripes, punching Molly in the arm in retaliation before rubbing the back of her head ruefully.

“Jealous,” Molly says airily. He turns to Fjord, grinning toothily. “He’s _ German_. Super smart, some kind of scientist. Can’t understand half the shit he’s talking about but he’s got an adorable accent _ and _a cat.”

Fjord wrinkles his nose at the mention of the cat, feeling the sudden urge to sneeze tickle the back of his nose.

“So that’s why you stink,” Beau says with a smirk.

“I didn’t even go to his apartment, Beau,” Molly says loftily, scowling. “_I_am a gentleman. Plus, his roommate was home,” he adds with a mild air of disappointment.

Beau snorts and Fjord can’t suppress a small smile, fondness for the both of them welling in him. He digs out the worn set of playing cards and they sit around the coffee table playing for pretzels, making their way through the rest of the beer and half a bottle of wine still in Fjord’s fridge from the week before, passing the bottle around as they chat about the past week. They’re mercifully silent about Fjord’s shoulder, though he catches them exchanging concerned looks when Fjord winces as he accepts the nearly empty bottle of wine from Beau.

“I know you don’t want us to talk about it,” Beau begins tentatively. “But are you going to be okay, man? Not your shoulder just… in general?”

“You know anything you need to talk about, we’re here, right?” Molly adds, Beau nodding beside him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Fjord says, forcing a smile before taking a swig of the wine. “Seriously. I guess I just need to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life now.” 

“If you need anything,” Molly says earnestly. “Really. Anything.”

“And call that physical therapist,” Beau says. “I’ll find his information later and text it to you. He really was good. A little… weird but he helped a lot. The intern he had was also really cute.”

Molly rolls his eyes.

“I’ll call him,” Fjord promises. He sets the now empty bottle on the table and offers them each a grateful smile. “Thanks, guys.”

They smile back at him but all he can see is their pity. He hates it.

They leave not long after, Beau giving him a careful, uncharacteristic hug after he walks them both to the door. He accepts it begrudgingly, grumbling and shoving Molly away when he tries to do the same and kiss his cheek dramatically. 

“We should get lunch or something this week, yeah?” Beau says to Fjord as Molly walks a little unsteadily down the stairs, singing loudly and off-key.

“Sure, Beau,” Fjord sighs wearily. “I don’t exactly have much else going on now.”

Beau gives him a sympathetic look before clapping him on his left arm and heading down the stairs after Molly. He listens to their bickering for a few seconds before shutting the door and heading to his bedroom to collapse onto the mattress. His phone vibrates on the bed next to him after a few minutes and he lifts his head reluctantly to look at the message from Beau on the screen.

It’s a picture of a bent and fading business card, half of it dominated by a sprawling tree logo in a deep green. The other half is neatly printed script. 

_ Savalier Physical Therapy _

_ Caduceus Clay P.T. _

There’s an address and phone number below this along with a website, which Fjord quickly goes to out of sheer curiosity. He quirks an eyebrow at the picture of the firbolg under the About section, thin and smiling faintly, his bright pink hair pulled back in a loose bun, half-lidded eyes looking more suited for some of the parties he went to in college rather than a doctor’s office. He tells himself he’ll call in the morning and shuffles back out to the living room to take another pain pill in addition to the rest of the medications he’s been neglecting all day before crawling back into bed and quickly falling asleep, half hoping he'll wake up the next morning to find it was all just a bad dream.


	2. Chapter 2

It takes nearly a week for him to eventually call the physical therapist. A week and a blow-up from Beau when they go out for lunch a few days after their poker night and he lies that he hasn’t had a chance to call yet. That combined with the near daily check-ups from Vandren are enough to guilt him into calling the afternoon after his lunch with Beau, during which she threatens to “break his other arm” if he doesn’t call.

He reluctantly dials the number on the card Beau had sent him a picture of, chewing at his bottom lip as he listens to the line ring in his ear before the call is picked up and a cheerful voice answers from the other end.

“_Hello! How are you? _”

“Erm,” Fjord says, quickly glancing at the picture Beau had sent him to make sure he dialed the right number. “Is this Savalier Physical Therapy?”

“_J__ester, I told you, you need to say the name of the practice when you answer the phone. _”

“_Okay, okay, yes, that’s us! How can I help you? _”

“I have a referral from my doctor to see a physical therapist for my shoulder,” Fjord says, suddenly wary about Beau’s recommendation. “Is there a time I could come in and see, uh, Doctor Clay?”

“_One moment, please! _ ” the cheerful voice says. He hears the click of a keyboard and the rustle is paper on the other end of the line. “_Are you available Thursday at two? We had a cancellation this morning_.”

“Oh,” Fjord says, taken aback. It’s Tuesday. “Um, yeah, Thursday’s fine.”

He gives the woman his information and she tells him to be there fifteen minutes early to fill out paperwork as well as bring his referral information before telling him happily that they look forward to seeing him Thursday and ending the call.

He spends the next day and a half fidgety and anxious, struggling to go about his usual routine with the limited mobility in his shoulder, which still aches and throbs despite the medication and warm baths he’s been taking each evening at Vandren’s suggestion. He feels vaguely lost without hours of training to do every day, still getting up early to run out of sheer habit, binding his arm in the sling so as not to jostle his shoulder before spending almost an hour running his usual loop to the park and back again. It feels good to have some semblance of normalcy left in his daily run, even if it leaves him feeling flush with adrenaline he can’t do anything with, leaving him to wallow around his apartment aimlessly flicking through the channels on TV or scrolling, bored, through social media. 

He pauses when he sees a picture Molly has posted on his Instagram of him alongside a timid looking man with red hair and freckles, smiling faintly while Molly grins broadly at the camera. Fjord thinks this must be the man he’d been talking about the week before and in the group chat they have ongoing with Beau. Caleb, he thinks his name was. He likes the picture and heaves a sigh of frustration, glancing at the clock and willing it to go faster so he can stop being so anxious about his appointment with the physical therapist that afternoon.

At noon, he heads to the nearest bus stop to ride into the city, walking the last few blocks to the therapist’s office. The air has a crisp, autumnal feel to it, not cold but still with enough of a chill that he wishes he’d brought a jacket to wear over his sweater. The office occupies half of the second floor of a low building between a salon and a café, the top half of the door a frosted window with the name of the practice and the doctor written across it in silver lettering.

He pushes the door open nervously and slips inside, greeted by a tiny front room with two chairs arranged against one wall and a desk shoved into the other. A plump blue tiefling woman sits behind the desk, doodling on a scrap of paper with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. She looks up when Fjord enters and flashes him a bright smile.

“Hello!” she says happily, pushing her paper and pen aside and turning to the computer in front of her instead. He recognizes her accent from when he called Tuesday. “You must be, uhhh, Fjord, right?”

Fjord nods and she smiles again, scooping up a clipboard pinned with a sheaf of paper and another pen from the desk to hold out to him.

“I’m Jester,” she says, holding out her hand towards him expectantly. Fjord tucks the clipboard under his injured arm so he can accept it. “Just fill that all out and then Caduceus will be ready for you, okay? Don’t worry, he’s really nice and really good at what he does,” she adds in an undertone, clearly picking up on Fjord’s nervous energy.

“Right,” Fjord mutters. “Thanks, um, Jester.”

“You’re welcome!” Jester replies brightly, turning back to her doodling without another word.

Fjord takes one of the stiff-backed chairs against the other wall and begins filling out the paperwork as best as he can, regretting now more than ever being right-handed. It takes him nearly fifteen minutes to finish all of the forms, rolling his shoulder and wincing as he stands to hand them back to Jester.

“Thank you!” she says cheerfully. Fjord wonders vaguely if she’s always this happy. “I’ll let Caduceus know you’re ready, he’ll come get you in just a minute, alright?”

Fjord grunts in response and take his seat again as Jester stands from behind her desk and disappears through the only other door in the room, directly opposite the front door. She returns after a minute, flashing Fjord another broad grin as she returns to her seat, humming tunelessly and continuing her drawing. 

The door on the other end of the room opens and the same firbolg he’d seen pictured on the website pokes his head around it before pushing it open fully. He’s dressed in a pair of dark green scrubs, his long pink hair pulled back in a loose bun as it had been in his picture, cut short on one side of his head, a neatly trimmed goatee across his chin and jaw. He’s so tall, Fjord’s a little surprised he didn’t hit his head on the lintel walking through the door. There’s a serene sort of smile on his face which he directs at Fjord as he stands from his chair.

“Why don’t you come on back, Mister—”

“Just Fjord, please,” Fjord says over him.

“Mister Fjord,” the firbolg says with a nod. He steps back and sweeps his hand towards the open door. “Come on in and let’s take a look at you.”

Fjord half-glances at Jester, who smiles and gives him an encouraging thumbs up, before walking past the firbolg—Doctor Clay, he reminds himself—into the room. It’s a small space, paneled with dark wood on the lower half of the walls and painted the same green of the doctor’s scrubs on the top. There are leafy plants and succulents scattered across the scant surfaces of the room, filling most of the bookshelves behind the handsome wooden desk sat against the far wall and much of the desk itself. 

There’s another set of shelves full of small weights and exercise balls as well as a diploma, a small stone Buddha statue, and even more plants. The side of the room not occupied by the desk or shelves has a single examination bed, the top wrapped in shiny blue vinyl. 

“Have a seat,” Clay says, patting the top of the bed and smiling kindly. “If you could take your shirt off so I can look at your shoulder.”

Fjord obliges, wincing as he struggles out of his sweater, trying to move his injured shoulder as little as possible as he does. He turns away from the doctor so his back and shoulder are towards him, shivering automatically when his hand settles at the top of his spine despite the warmth of his fingers.

“A little swelling,” he says, prodding gently at tender slope of Fjord’s shoulder. “Have you been wearing a sling?”

“On and off,” Fjord replies. “Mostly just when I run.”

“Try not to wear it too much, it could cause issues with mobility in the long run if you do. I’m just going to lift your arm, alright?” He waits for Fjord to nod before taking his wrist in his hand and carefully extending his arm, lifting it slowly.

“So, how did this happen?” he says, halting the movement of Fjord’s arm when he winces and makes a pained noise. “Your paper said it was a sports injury? What sport do you play?”

“I was a swimmer,” Fjord mutters, feeling a sudden swoop of nausea at the topic being brought up unexpectedly.

“Was?” Clay says curiously, now pushing Fjord’s arm forward slowly, stopping again when Fjord grimaces. 

“Can’t exactly swim like this, can I?” Fjord says irritably, nodding to his shoulder.

“Now, that’s no way to look at things,” Clay says pleasantly as he begins to roll Fjord’s shoulder back gently. “I saw your scans, it wasn’t the worst tear I’ve seen. A few months of this and you can start swimming again. I can’t imagine it would take more than eight or nine months for you to be back up to where you were or at least close.”

Fjord scoffs quietly, shaking his head.

“Won’t do much good when I have Olympic trials in seven months, will it?” he says harshly. 

Clay pauses in the act of rolling his shoulder forward again.

“Ah,” he says with a solemn nod, “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever,” Fjord mutters, slumping dejectedly.

“Well, there’s always a bright side to things,” Clay continues cheerfully. “Even if you haven’t seen it yet, it’s there.”

Fjord half-glances back at him incredulously, opening his mouth to argue and deciding against it, looking forward and rolling his eyes instead. 

“We’re just going to start with some simple range of motion exercises, alright?” Clay says, stepping back and gesturing for Fjord to stand. “I don’t want you doing anything too strenuous for the first week or two then we’ll see how you’re doing. You have a follow-up scan to confirm if you’ll need surgery?”

“Three weeks,” Fjord replies with a nod. “Look, Doctor Clay, I—“

“Caduceus, please,” Clay says, wrinkling his nose. “I really hate being called Doctor.”

“Alright…” Fjord says slowly. “Caduceus, can’t you just… I don’t know, give me a list of exercises or whatever and sign off saying I was here? I only came because my best friend would beat my ass if I didn’t but this is really a waste of both our time.”

Caduceus chuckles warmly, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Fjord,” he says, smiling. “Besides, if I did that and you showed up for your scan in three weeks with no improvement, I’d be the one in trouble.”

Fjord sighs in aggravation.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Can we just get it over with then?”

Caduceus gives him a long, appraising look, expression impassive, before nodding. 

He walks Fjord through several monotonous stretches and exercises, asking him what hurts and making sure he doesn’t overextend his shoulder, telling him encouragingly that he’s doing a great job despite Fjord’s clear lack of interest for the rest of the hour long session. He hands him a sheaf of papers as he’s getting ready to leave detailing the exercises he’s supposed to do every day until their next session he has Jester schedule for the following Monday.

“I’ll see you next week, Fjord,” he says as Fjord is shrugging on his sweater. His shoulder aches even more than it did when he’d arrived and he’s eager to get home and take another one of his pain medications and soak in the tub.

“Sure,” Fjord replies distantly, heading towards the door to the front room.

“Fjord,” Caduceus says, stopping him with a hand on his arm. He holds out the papers Fjord had left sitting on the examination bed. “Don’t forget these. Remember, twice a day.”

“Uh huh,” Fjord says, accepting the papers and tucking them under his arm before striding out into the entry, nodding at Jester briefly. 

He can feel Caduceus’ eyes on the back of his head as he leaves but he doesn’t look back, keeps his eyes resolutely forward until he’s walking into his apartment half an hour later, though he still thinks he can feel those keen eyes watching him even then.


	3. Chapter 3

His shoulder aches horribly Friday morning after his appointment with Caduceus and he spends most of the day grumbling about the firbolg and swallowing down pain pills to try and lessen the steady throbbing in his muscles, ignoring the papers detailing his assigned exercises where he’d left them strewn on his kitchen counter the night before apart from scowling at them every time he walks by. He readily welcomes the break in the monotony that his Saturday evening poker nights with Beau and Molly provides. He’s so bored, he’s even willing to listen to Molly drone about his date the night before.

“Did I tell you he grew up on a farm?” Molly says, a look of almost dreamy infatuation on his face despite the fact that Beau has just soundly beaten his hand and gleefully taken half the pile of pretzels from in front of him. 

“Yeah, you mentioned it,” Beau says with a roll of her eyes. She begins stacking her formidable pile of pretzels neatly in front of her as Molly gathers up the cards and shuffles them smoothly. He opens his mouth to say something and Beau quickly reaches out to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop him. “Can we _ please _ talk about something else?”

Molly scowls, smirking when Beau draws her hand away with a disgusted noise and wipes it on her shirt. He looks faintly smug as he begins doling out cards but he doesn’t make to speak again.

“Fjord,” Beau says, looking relieved and directing her attention across the table at him. “How did your appointment go?”

Fjord makes a noncommittal noise and shrugs his uninjured shoulder. “Alright, I guess,” he mutters, picking up his cards and frowning at the useless hand. “He made me do a bunch of stupid stretches.”

“Yeah, that’s what physical therapy is, dude,” Beau says with a smirk. “You’re doing what he said to do though, right?”

“Course I am,” Fjord lies, keeping his eyes on his cards and pretending to sort them in his hand.

“You can’t ignore that stuff, man,” she says seriously. “If you don’t do it, it could fuck up your shoulder for a lot longer.”

“I know,” Fjord says, aggravated. “I’m doing it.”

“Alright,” Beau holds her hand up in surrender. Her expression turns concerned, “Just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“We’re worried is all,” Molly adds in a would be placating voice, though it only serves to further fray Fjord’s nerves.

“I’m _ fine_,” Fjord sighs, taking a swig of beer and setting the bottle down sharply. His shoulder aches intolerably and he suddenly wishes they would leave so he could take his medication and soak in the tub.

They seem to pick on his irritation and drop the subject, though he still feels a twinge of annoyance every time they share a look or offer to pick up his cards when he drops them. It makes him feel weak and helpless, things he hasn’t felt in a long time since Vandren had taken him under his wing when he was small and helped him pull his way out of the group home and onto his own two feet. He doesn’t like being left alone with nothing but his own thoughts for company for so long.

He swallows down a pain pill as soon as they leave and fills the tub with water so hot it nearly scalds his skin, wincing as he sinks into it. He folds his legs so he can lower his shoulder into the water, stopping with his chin and mouth beneath the surface so he can breathe through his nose. Steam wafts lazily around him and he closes his eyes, leaning back against the porcelain that feels frigidly cold on the back of his neck in comparison to the water.

The ache in his shoulder slowly begins to subside as the medicine kicks in and the heat of the water seeps into his skin and muscles. It all feels like a weak substitute for what he really wants to do. He misses swimming. Misses being occupied, working _ towards _something rather than standing still with no direction like he is now. Like he’s swimming through water mucked black with mud, desperate for air with no clue how to find his way to the surface.

He sits in the tub until the water turns cool, shivering as he towels off and tugs on a pair of sweatpants. He tidies up the mess in the living room, tossing the empty bottles of beer in the trash and sweeping pretzel crumbs in after them. His eyes land almost automatically on the stack of papers Caduceus gave him when he sets the trashcan back in the kitchen, stomach squirming with guilt at the thought of his lie to Beau. He ignores the feeling, though, snatching the papers up from the counter and shoving them into the trash as well before heading to bed. His dreams are full of dark, cold water and something unseen pulling him down into the black.

* * *

The guilty feeling returns Monday afternoon as he’s climbing the stairs to Caduceus’ office for his next appointment, though he doesn’t let it show on his face when Caduceus ushers him into the back room once he’s signed in with Jester. He tugs off his sweater, gritting his teeth to keep from wincing at the stiffness in his shoulder.

“Swelling has gone down, which is good,” Caduceus says as he examines Fjord’s shoulder. “How have the stretches been going?”

“Fine,” Fjord says. 

“Any more stiffness? How’s the pain?”

“Alright,” Fjord mutters.

Caduceus hums and grips his wrist loosely to begin raising his arm like he had the week before and Fjord can’t stop the cry that escapes him when sharp, hot pain shoots down his arm, his hand flying instinctively to his shoulder. Caduceus sighs and lowers his arm gently back onto the table.

“You’re lying to me, Fjord,” he says simply, stepping around the table so he can look at him. Fjord meets his gaze defiantly. “Did you do any of the exercises I gave you?”

“No,” Fjord says flatly.

“Why not?” Caduceus’ tone is even and patient and it makes Fjord itch with irritation.

“Because there’s no point in doing it,” he says bitterly. “I’m not going to be better in time for the trials and I’m going to be too old in four years so what’s the fucking _ point _?” He lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head and dragging his fingers restlessly through his hair. “This is a waste of my time.”

“It’s not a waste of your time,” Caduceus says. He gives Fjord a considering look before taking a step back so he can lean against the edge of his desk, folding his hands loosely. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to tell you a story, Fjord.”

“Knock yourself out,” Fjord says, staring pointedly through the single window at the far end of the room. It’s beginning to drizzle outside and he grimaces at the thought of walking to the bus stop in the rain.

“I come from a big family,” Caduceus begins. His voice is low and melodic in a way Fjord thinks would be soothing in any other circumstance. “I have five older siblings. I know.” He chuckles when Fjord gives him a look of incredulity. “I’m the youngest by seven years so it was always hard for me to keep up with the others, especially since I was on the smaller side when I was younger.”

Fjord arches an eyebrow dubiously, eyes sweeping over his lanky frame.

“I had a growth spurt in high school,” Caduceus explains, smiling faintly. “Well, when I was six, my brother and sisters and I were climbing trees and it was hard for me to keep up. And my sister kept teasing me for being too slow and, well, it ended with me in the hospital with a very broken knee.”

Fjord winces and Caduceus shrugs, expression still light-hearted.

“It was a long time ago,” he says. “But I couldn’t walk for a long time. Long for a six year old, at least. And even then it was difficult for me to get around. I ended up having to go to physical therapy for a year before I really recovered. It still twinges a little when it rains.” He nods at the window where the rain has picked up and is pattering against the glass quietly.

“It was really hard trying to go through therapy,” he continues, “I couldn’t play with my brother and sisters and kids at school made fun of the way I walked. I’m sure my parents can attest to the tantrums. I won’t lie and say it was easy, Fjord. But as much as it felt like the end of the world for a very long time, it wasn’t. And it gave me direction.” He gestures at himself and around the office.

“I’m not saying my experience is universal but I’ve seen a lot of young people come through this office thinking their life is over because of their injury and you can’t let it define you or limit you. You have the choice to let it dictate your life, but I guarantee you you’ll be miserable if you do.” His smile turns knowing. “You seem like the type of person who wants to be in control of things. And I think it scares you a little bit not having that power right now.”

He falls silent, still wearing that same serene smile, and Fjord suddenly feels incredibly small.

“I didn’t know,” he mutters guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t about me, Fjord,” Caduceus says, taking a step towards him and laying his hand lightly on Fjord’s bare shoulder. “It’s about you. And understanding that it’s okay to be upset, but that if you let yourself get stuck in that misery, it’ll swallow you up.”

“You sure you’re just a physical therapist?” Fjord says, smiling hesitantly when Caduceus chuckles.

“You know, you’re not the first person to ask me that,” he says. His expression softens. Not with pity, but with understanding. “It’s okay to be frustrated by all of this, Fjord. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you. But I want to help you. I just need you to let me at least try.”

Fjord sighs, feeling both thoroughly chastised and grateful that Caduceus isn’t trying to sugarcoat things or pity him like everyone else has. He sighs and nods.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll try.”

Caduceus smiles warmly, so bright and infectious Fjord feels the corners of his own mouth twitch up.

“I’m going to give you my cellphone number,” Caduceus says, reaching into the pocket of his scrubs to pull out an aging smartphone. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to message me when you’ve done your stretches every day, morning and night. Sometimes having that reminder can help establish a routine. If you’re not comfortable with it though, we can work something else out.”

“No,” Fjord says, pulling out his own phone. “No, I think you’re right. I think it will help.”

“And don’t try and lie to me again,” Caduceus says, his smile still broad and bright but suddenly several degrees cooler. “I’ll know if you do.”

Fjord nods sheepishly, finishing punching Caduceus' number in before pocketing his phone again.

“Oh, er, could I get new copies of the papers?” Fjord says. “I must have lost the ones you gave me.”

Caduceus gives him a dubious look that clearly says he sees through the lie but he doesn’t say anything about it, moving to his desk to pull out another set of the same papers he’d given Fjord the first time.

“Why don’t we get started, yeah?” he says once Fjord has set the papers aside. “We’ll take things easy today, okay? Work you back up to where you were last week.”

Fjord nods, still feeling a slight hitch of guilt in his stomach as Caduceus begins walking him through the same set of stretches they’d done the week before. Fjord is careful to pay attention this time and follow his instruction, struggling through the stiffness in his shoulder. He stops, grimacing when a particularly strong pulse of pain shoots all the way down to his elbow.

“Maybe we should stop early today,” Caduceus says, glancing at the clock ticking steadily on the wall. 

“I want to make up for what I messed up,” Fjord says, gritting his teeth against the dull ache settling into his muscles.

“And I don’t want you overdoing it and hurting yourself,” Caduceus says gently. “You did a great job today, Fjord, and if you keep it up at home, you’re going to see yourself improving faster than you think.”

Fjord sighs dejectedly. “Alright,” he says, “we can stop.”

Caduceus smiles and lays his hand on Fjord’s uninjured shoulder to squeeze it reassuringly. 

“Put some ice on it when you get home,” he says. He frowns in consideration. “Better yet, I always find a nice hot bath helps when my knee acts up.”

“Yeah, I take a lot of those now,” Fjord says ruefully, though he finds himself longing to get home and do what Caduceus recommends at the suggestion. He fiddles absently with a loose thread on his sweatpants, glancing up at him. “Thank you, Caduceus.”

“I’m quite literally just doing my job,” Caduceus replies though he smiles kindly. “If you want to thank me, keep up with those exercises.”

“I will,” Fjord says resolutely. “I’ll, um, text you tonight when I’m finished.”

“I look forward to it,” Caduceus says. There’s something about his expression that’s unnervingly unreadable to Fjord, calm and indiscernible in a way that makes him feel both soothed and unsure all at once. He thinks it’s his eyes, bright and keen but exceedingly warm even when he’s looking straight through all the bullshit Fjord has given him.

“I should get going,” Fjord says, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and exposed, though he doesn’t think it has anything to do with having his shirt off. He shrugs it back on and tucks the folded sheaf of papers into his back pocket, groaning dismally at the sight of the now heavy rainfall sheeting across the window.

“Here,” Caduceus says, ducking behind his desk to pull out a long, sky-blue umbrella, which he holds out towards him.

“I can’t take that,” Fjord says, laughing incredulously. “You won’t have it when you leave.”

“Rain’s supposed to stop in an hour or so,” Caduceus replies with a shrug. “Besides, my car isn’t too far.”

“Thank you,” Fjord mutters, accepting the umbrella and tucking it under his arm.

“You can give it back to me Thursday,” Caduceus says, smiling and leaning against his desk, hands tucked in his pockets.

“I will,” Fjord assures him, though he looks wholly unbothered. “I’ll see you then.” He grimaces at how much it sounds like a question, as if it’s not entirely on his shoulders whether or not this continues.

“I’ll see you then,” Caduceus echoes, nodding. He moves to hold the door open for Fjord. “Be careful walking home in that rain.”

Fjord walks past him, pausing just over the threshold and half turning back towards him, opening his mouth to speak despite not knowing what he’s about to say. He dithers on the spot for a few seconds before exhaling a sigh, shoulders slumping heavily.

“Goodbye,” he says, gripping the umbrella more tightly under his arm and heading for the door.

“Goodbye, Fjord,” Caduceus calls from behind him.

Fjord opens the umbrella as soon as he steps out onto the sidewalk, moving out to the curb so he can look up at the window of Caduceus’ office as he’s hit with the now familiar sensation of the firbolg’s eyes on him. He squints upward through the rain, ignoring the fat drops hitting his face. The curtain is closed now, though, and Caduceus is nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> later chapters will gradually get longer, I swear, they won't all be this short


	4. Chapter 4

Having the daily reminders he sets himself to both do his stretches and to let Caduceus know he’s done them serves as the biggest motivation for him over the coming days. There’s little else to distract him from his boredom besides the occasional check-in from Vandren and his time spent with Beau and Molly each weekend. The addition of having something new to work towards helps him fall easily back into a routine. 

He wakes up each morning at 5—he’s not sure his body will ever be able to sleep later after years of training—and slips his arm into the sling before setting off on his usual run. The mid November air is cool against his skin, his breath rising up in front of him as he jogs down the sidewalk in the still dark early morning. When he gets home, he showers and eats before spending half an hour doing the stretches and simple exercises Caduceus has assigned him to do every morning and night before messaging him with a certain sense of accomplishment that he’s finished.

That first night he’d been wary about reaching out to him at all. It had been well past nine before he’d felt up to trying to do them, once he’d soaked in the tub for a full hour and downed his pain medication. But he also didn’t want Caduceus to think he’d shirked on his promise not even twelve hours after he’d made it. He’d sat on the couch, frowning at the open, empty message thread for a full ten minutes before finally typing out a message, deleting it at least three times before he finally sent it.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ just finished _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ the stretches, I mean _

His phone had been silent for a full twenty minutes and he was sure then that Caduceus must have gone to bed early or was simply ignoring him because of how late it was. He could also well have had other plans, it’s not like Fjord knew him all that well to be keyed into his goings on. He was idly flicking through the channels, landing on a nature documentary about the ocean, when his phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table.

** _Caduceus:_ ** _ that’s great! Good job! How are you feeling? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ better _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ that’s a lie, I’m sore as hell _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ but I took your advice and had a hot bath so it’s not as bad as it could be _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’m glad to hear it. _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ You should be proud of yourself, Fjord, you’re making your first steps to recovery. You’ll be swimming again before you know it! _

** _Fjord:_ ** _ let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, it’s only been a day _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I’ll let you get back to your evening. Goodnight, Caduceus. _

** _Caduceus:_ ** _ Goodnight, Fjord _

He’d felt an unexpected rush of endorphins at Caduceus’ approval, something like what he would feel when he got a particularly good time and Vandren would praise him, a flood of pride that only served to make him more eager to continue working towards improvement. When he sees Caduceus Thursday, his marveling at his progress after only three days makes Fjord swell proudly. He hadn’t realized how much he’s missed having recognition and praise. 

Not that he’s vain. He’d always been uncomfortable by the articles about him no matter how few people read them. But there’s something different, something that feels almost private, having the attention and approval of a single person directed towards him that he feels like he could almost get high on it. And Caduceus, while he doesn’t stand for any of Fjord’s excuses, is otherwise so unlike Vandren. Exceedingly warm and kind and heaping praise onto him so frequently both during their short exchanges over text and their in person meetings that Fjord’s stomach tightens with anticipation every time he scoops up his phone to message him or climbs the stairs to his office.

His mood is buoyed remarkably by the time Beau and Molly arrive at his apartment Saturday evening, Beau holding two bottles of wine clearly nicked from her parents winery and Molly trailing after her chattering away excitedly about something he’d done with Yasha earlier that day. 

“You look fucking cheerful,” Beau says, eyeing Fjord suspiciously as he shuts the door behind them and they make their way to the living room.

“Do I?” Fjord says, schooling his face carefully into a more neutral expression.

“Yeah,” Beau narrows her eyes as she plops down on her usual spot on the rug. “You don’t look like you have a stick up your ass anymore.”

Molly snorts loudly on his way to the kitchen to get a corkscrew and Fjord makes an affronted noise.

“What, you’d rather I be miserable?” he says with a scowl.

“Nah, I didn’t say that,” she skillfully catches the corkscrew Molly tosses across the room to her and begins uncorking one of the bottles. “Just curious what’s got you all… chipper.”

“Chipper,” Fjord echoes flatly.

“You do look suspiciously less brooding,” Molly agrees, taking Fjord’s chin in his hand and tilting his head to the side like he’s inspecting him for lobotomy scars. 

“Look, I’m just feeling better is all, Christ,” Fjord mutters and pushes him off irritably. “Thought you’d _ want _ me to.”

“Of course we do, dear,” Molly says, happily accepting Beau tipping dark wine into his glass. He takes a heavy swig. “It’s just… unexpected, is all.”

“Can we just get on with it?” Fjord says, tossing the pack of cards at him to shuffle before laying a handful of pretzels in front of each of them. While he’s pleased for them to be there—both for their company and the fact that he’s feeling much more up to socializing that he has been for the past few weeks—he’s also eager for them to leave. He’s not yet had a chance to do his stretches that evening and, subsequently, has not yet messaged Caduceus about it. As late as their games usually run, part of him is afraid he might be asleep before Fjord finally gets around to it.

“So, since you’re not ready to bite our heads off,” Beau begins after they’ve been playing for nearly an hour. “Can I ask how physical therapy is going?”

There’s a sudden tension in Fjord’s stomach at the mention of it, though it’s not a sickening lurch he’d felt the week before, more a swooping flip high in his gut.

“Better,” he says, feeling slightly off-kilter. 

“That Caduceus guy knows what he’s doing, yeah?” Beau says. She takes a gulp of wine and smacks her lips.

“Yeah,” Fjord says, nodding. “A little strange but he’s good.”

“Does he still have like a million fucking plants?” Beau says.

Fjord hums and nods, picking up his cards and biting back a grin at the two aces and a queen in his hand along with the ace and queen Molly has just laid face up on the table.

“Weird fucking dude,” Beau says with a shake of her head.

“Is he hot?” Molly pipes up, smirking suggestively.

“You have a boyfriend,” Beau says incredulously.

“I didn’t say it was for me,” Molly bites back sardonically. He gestures to Fjord, “Fjord needs someone sane after the nightmare of Hurricane Avantika.” 

There’s a collective shudder between the three of them at the mention of Fjord’s last girlfriend, whose name was taboo around them for a full six months after their breakup.

“I’m not dating my doctor,” Fjord says flatly.

“Still doesn’t answer my question,” Molly grins, tilting his wine glass and arching one eyebrow smoothly.

“I guess he is?” Fjord mutters, shrugging. “Fucking tall. Kind of skinny. There’s a picture on his website.”

Molly’s grin widens and he hurries to pull out his phone and look up the website for Caduceus’ practice.

“He’s cute,” he says, “doesn’t really look like a doctor, though.”

Fjord opens his mouth to agree when his own phone vibrates on the table next to him. He feels a shock of surprise when he sees Caduceus’ name on the screen, snatching his phone up when Beau glances across the table at it curiously.

“Be right back. Vandren,” he lies, standing and heading for the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder, “Don’t look at my cards.”

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ Good evening, Fjord. I hope I’m not interrupting anything. It’s getting fairly late and I hadn’t heard from you so I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. Sorry if I’m overstepping. _

Fjord, expecting to be scolded for not doing his stretches yet, blinks down at the message in surprise. He leans back against the kitchen counter, chewing on his bottom lip in consideration before typing out a response.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ you’re not overstepping _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I’ve got friends over for poker and haven’t had a chance to do them yet _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ one of them is actually a former patient of yours, Beauregard Lionett _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I remember Beau! I think she was more interested in Jester than therapy though. _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ And I’m sorry for contacting you, I hope you don’t think it’s that I don’t trust you to keep your word. I was genuinely starting to worry. I guess it’s silly, not everyone stays at home drinking tea and talking to their plants on Saturday nights like me. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ talking to your plants…? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ they like it _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ right _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I don’t mind, though, I like talking to you _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I mean it doesn’t bother me, if you want to _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ not that you have to, but I won’t be upset if you do _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ :) _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I like talking to you too, Fjord _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ go back to your friends, I’ll be here when you’re finished _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ it’s getting late, I don’t want to bother you _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ not bothering me _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ this is the most exciting my Saturday will get, I promise you _

Fjord laughs quietly to himself, promising to let him know when he’s finished his exercises for the evening before pocketing his phone and rejoining Beau and Molly in the living room, where Beau is smacking Molly’s hand as he tries to sneak a peek at Fjord’s cards.

“What did Vandren want?” Beau asks as Fjord returns to his seat on the couch.

“Hm? Oh, just, uh, asking how therapy was going,” Fjord replies, clearing his throat and avoiding her eye.

She seems to accept the lie though, likely due to the fact that she’s downed two full glasses of wine already and is looking well on her way to tipsy. 

“What kind of stuff is he making you do, anyway?” Molly says curiously. “The therapist guy, I mean.”

“Mostly stretches and stuff,” Fjord replies absently. He grins triumphantly when he lays down his hand, his full house soundly beating Beau’s two pair. He sweeps the pile of pretzels to his side of the table with one hand.

“What, like yoga?” Molly says. “I could have helped you with that for free.”

“It’s not yoga, Molly,” Beau interjects. “Besides, we all know what happens to the people you give yoga lessons to.”

Molly grins lasciviously.

“I don’t fuck all my students,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Just the interested and hot ones. You should have seen Caleb his first class, boy was a ball of nerves with the flexibility of a tire iron. I’m fixing that though.”

“_Gross_,” Beau exclaims, pulling a disgusted face. 

“You guys will get to meet him at my party,” Molly says, ignoring her.

“That’s almost a whole month away, are you sure you’ll still be dating him then?” Beau smirks. 

Molly scowls at her and flips her his middle finger. They continue bickering but Fjord is only half paying attention, his mind wandering to his phone in his pocket, to Caduceus sitting at the other end of it alone and expecting his message. His attention is divided for the next hour and he feels a certain degree of relief when the two of them finally gather their things and bid Fjord goodnight. 

He hurries to clean up the empty wine bottles and glasses and the dwindling pile of pretzels left on the table before checking the schedule Caduceus had created for him and beginning to list of stretches and strengthening exercises set for him. Between warming up and working through the list, takes him over half an hour to finish. His shoulder doesn’t hurt, though his muscles ache pleasantly by the time he’s swallowing his medication and sitting on the edge of his bed. He pulls out his phone and grimaces at the time.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ hope I’m not waking you up but I’m finished _

His phone is only silent for a minute or two before the reply comes through as he smiles as he settles back against the headboard.

** _Caduceus:_ ** _ No, I’m still up. Good job! I commend you for sticking with it even this late. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I said I would stick with it and I’m going to _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ You should be very proud of your progress. I bet by Monday, I won’t recognize your shoulder. You’re doing a wonderful job, Fjord. _

Fjord swells at the praise.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ thank you for not giving up on me _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ or letting me give up on myself _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ wouldn’t dream of it _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I have a weird question because I haven’t stopped thinking about it since you said it earlier _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ what do you talk to your plants about? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ Anything, really. I usually just talk about my day while I’m watering them. About patients and things. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ does that include me? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’ve mentioned you, yes _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ does that make you uncomfortable? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ not really sure if I’m honest _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ it’s all good, I promise _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ as long as they don’t spill my secrets _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I think you’re safe _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ they’re not a very talkative bunch _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ do you have as many at home as in your office? _

There’s no immediate response, then a picture pops up on his screen. He clicks it open, eyes widening at what must be dozens of potted plants covering every surface of what is apparently Caduceus’ living room. Apart from the plants, the room is quaintly decorated with wicker furniture and delicate doilies under each of the pots. There’s a pale blue teapot and matching cup and saucer on the table in the lower right corner of the frame. It looks more like someone’s grandmother’s house than that of someone his age.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ some of these are usually outside but it’s getting cold so I brought them in for the winter _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ that’s a lot of plants _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I like plants _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ they're good listeners _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ very nonjudgmental _

Fjord chuckles quietly.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ can’t imagine they’re very good conversationalists, though _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ not really _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ you’re a marked improvement in that regard _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ this isn’t weird for you? Talking to a patient like this? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ not at all, I’ve become friends with lots of my patients _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ probably not the most professional thing to do but I like making friends _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ so you’re telling me I’m not special? _

He hopes it comes across as light-hearted, though he can’t stop the inexplicable sense of disappointment hearing that this is common practice for Caduceus.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ you are special :) _

He waits for the inevitable “everyone is special” that seems like would be typical of Caduceus, but it doesn’t come and he feels that gentle, pleased swoop in his stomach again.

** _Fjord_** _: my ego thanks you _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ it’s getting late, I don’t want to keep you up _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ talk tomorrow? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ tomorrow _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ goodnight, Fjord _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ night _

Fjord stares at the screen for a few seconds, half expecting something more to come through. When nothing does, he plugs his phone in and lays it on the side table before tugging a sheet over himself. He stares up at the dark ceiling for a long time, turning the conversation over in his head.

He doesn’t feel special. Not anymore. But Caduceus makes him feel like maybe he could be again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for your wonderful comments, they are the biggest motivator ^^


	5. Chapter 5

His shoulder continues improving noticeably over the next two weeks. He even allows himself a visit to the pool one afternoon. Not to swim, he merely lowers himself into the cool water and floats on his back, watching the way the light bends and dances off the high ceiling and walls. It makes him long for summer and the ocean, where he can let himself get lost in the expansive sky and endless water. 

He knows it’s much too cold now to swim in the ocean right now, not that he could even if he wanted to with his shoulder, but part of him wants to hop on a bus and take the four hour drive to the nearest beach just to watch the waves. He wonders if Caduceus has ever been to the beach.

They’ve been talking more frequently over the last few weeks, not just about Fjord’s progress but about his love of swimming and how he’d realized it was the first thing he was _ really _ good at when he was still small. He was shocked to hear that Caduceus never learned how to swim and vowed to teach him one day, though Fjord wasn’t sure if he was just indulging him in agreeing or not. Caduceus never talks about his other patients, but he talks about his plants and his family, talks about how his parents and sister run a temple in his hometown two hours north of the city.

Fjord skirts around the topics of family and religion when they arise. He doesn’t call Vandren his father, never outright lies about it, but he’s spent enough years seeing how differently people treat him when they find out he grew up bouncing between foster homes that he never corrects Caduceus when he seems to assume that he is. 

Religion is something foreign to him entirely. Sure, he’d had to pray before meals at many of his foster homes but it was more just something that he _ did _ rather than knowing exactly _ why _ he did it. Caduceus only mentions his beliefs in passing during their conversations, speaking of meditating but never attempting to force Fjord into a discussion, which he’s grateful for.

When a group of college students begin crowding into the pool, Fjord climbs out and towels off, pulling out his phone once he’s changed back into his clothes and is walking out into the chilly afternoon air.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ have you ever been to the ocean? _

The response doesn’t come until he’s sitting on the bus, head tilted against the window and eyes drooping tiredly from the steady rumble of the engine. His phone pings in his hand and he glances down at it, smiling at the sight of Caduceus name.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I haven’t _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I think you’d like it _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ it’s calm and powerful all at once, you know? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ it always sounded nice. Never got around to it, I guess. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I went to the pool today. Made me think about the ocean. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ don’t worry, I didn’t really swim, I just missed it _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ we’ll get you swimming again soon _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I know _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I want to take you swimming in the ocean _

He sends the message before he can stop himself, staring at it in horror and disbelief as a bubble appears next to Caduceus’ name as he types a response.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ seems like it’d be a little cold _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ maybe when it’s warmer? _

Fjord breathes out a sigh of relief, smiling as he writes a reply.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ yeah, it’d be summer _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ you’ll need a lot of sunscreen, pale as you are _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I have a very nice sunhat I use for gardening, I’ll bring that along _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ this I have to see _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ don’t tell me you have one of those old swimsuits too, the striped ones _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ did those go out of style? _

Fjord can’t stop himself from laughing at the message and the image of Caduceus, pale and lanky, dressed in a floppy sun hat and striped bathing suit that somehow seems to fit his character a little too well.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ a few years ago, I think _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I may have trunks somewhere _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ changing to subject, but your appointment is tomorrow, right? With the doctor? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ yeah, at noon, I had my scan Friday so they’re giving me the results _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ will you let me know how it goes? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ of course, Beau, Molly, and Vandren are all waiting, too _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ fuck, I hope I don’t need surgery _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ as well as you’re doing, I think you’ll be fine _

They’re still messaging each other when Fjord makes his way up the stairs to his apartment, finally saying goodbye when Caduceus tells him he has a patient coming in ten minutes but that he’ll talk to him again that evening at their usual time. Fjord digs his pills out of the cupboard and downs them almost automatically before taking a hot shower to wash off the scent of chlorine. He tries to distract himself with television but finds his attention continually wandering to his phone where it sits dark on the table in front of him. 

His stomach is tight with nerves the entire morning the next day. When he arrives at the hospital for his follow-up scan results, he sits in the waiting room twisting his paperwork between his fingers anxiously. The doctor calls him back with a smile he tries not to place any hope on and ushers him into the stiff chair across from her desk before she sinks into her own chair.

“How are you feeling, Fjord?” she says seriously.

“Alright,” Fjord replies, hoping he doesn’t sound as impatient as he is.

“Physical therapy going well?” She flips open a manila folder and pulls out several black and white images that Fjord recognizes as MRI scans of his shoulder, though he has no idea how to interpret them.

“Yeah,” he says, “it’s good.”

“You’re seeing Doctor Clay, yes?” She checks a paper in his folder before looking up at him expectantly, smiling when Fjord nods.

“Well, I have some good news,” she continues. She slides two of the black and white images across the desk towards Fjord, indicating the first one. “This is your first scan. This is the one from Friday. See the white here? That’s your tear. And see here in the second one? Much less white.”

“Alright,” Fjord says slowly. “What, uh, what does that mean?”

“It means you’re healing well,” she says, collecting the images back into the folder, “and that you don’t need surgery. I think another six to eight weeks of physical therapy and another few months of avoiding anything too strenuous and you’ll be right as rain.”

Fjord lets out a weak laugh of mingled disbelief and relief, feeling what feels like a literal weight lift off his shoulders. He buries his face in his hands briefly, feeling almost light-headed.

“Whatever you’re doing with Doctor Clay is working,” the doctor says, smiling at Fjord’s relief. 

Fjord nods, grinning at the thought of telling him the news.

“How is your pain?” she says, glancing at Fjord’s shoulder. “Are you managing it alright?”

“Oh, um, it still hurts pretty bad some days,” Fjord says, his shoulder throbbing dully even at the thought.

She makes a considering noise and pulls her prescription pad towards her, scribbling something out on the top page.

“I’m going to write one refill for you,” she says, tearing off the page and holding it out to him. “I don’t know if you’ll need it or not, just fill it if you find you do if your other bottle runs out.”

Fjord accepts it with a muttered thanks, feeling a twinge of guilt thinking about the nearly empty bottle of painkillers in his medicine cabinet.

“Good luck, Fjord,” she says, holding out her hand towards him and smiling. “If you have any more problems with that shoulder, don’t hesitate to call.”

Fjord shakes her hand, returning her smile, and stands to leave, pocketing his prescription as he does. He’s barely closed the door behind him when he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovers over his ongoing conversation with Beau and Molly before landing on Caduceus’ name.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ no surgery _

The reply comes through almost immediately, which makes him think Caduceus had been waiting for the results. The thought makes him feel even lighter than he already does.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ that’s wonderful! _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’ve been thinking about it all day wondering _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’m so happy for you, Fjord _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ me too _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ six to eight more weeks of therapy, if you can put up with me that long _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ Is it selfish of me to be just a little glad? _

Before Fjord a chance to try and digest the question, Caduceus has sent him another message.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ Tomorrow we should celebrate. There’s a cafe next to the office, we can get coffee, my treat. Well, you can get coffee. I can get tea. Unless that’s uncomfortable for you? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ it’s not, I’d like that _

He hesitates before typing out his next message.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ we’re friends, aren’t we? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I like to think so. What do you think? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I’d like to think so, too_

* * *

There’s an indiscernible knot of tension in his stomach when he arrives at Caduceus’ office the next day. He feels weirdly underdressed in his usual jeans and long-sleeve shirt, though he can’t put his finger on _ why _he feels that way. When Caduceus opens the door to his office and beams brightly at him, he can’t help but returns he smile even as the knot in his stomach coils tighter.

“How are you feeling?” Caduceus says as he shuts the door behind him and Fjord takes his usual seat on the examination bed.

“A little sore,” Fjord admits, rubbing his shoulder. “But better.”

Caduceus chuckles and shakes his head. “I didn’t mean your shoulder,” he says, a softness to his tone that makes Fjord blink in confusion. “I mean how are _you_, Fjord, feeling?”

“Oh,” Fjord says, taken aback, “um, good? Relieved mostly.”

“I can imagine,” Caduceus says with that same soft tone.

“Are you still treating me to coffee after this or are you busy?” Fjord says, feeling his own voice quiet to match Caduceus’. It makes the whole conversation feel private in a way he expects to make him uncomfortable. It doesn’t, though. 

Caduceus blinks, looking distracted.

“Hm? Oh, right, no, I’m not busy,” he says, suddenly sounding distant. He turns away from Fjord, clearing his throat and moving to his desk to shift some of the papers across the surface. “I won’t have another patient for an hour or so. And it gives me an excuse to put off doing paperwork.”

Fjord makes an amused sound and begins tugging his shirt over his head so Caduceus can examine his shoulder as usual.

“Not necessary today,” Caduceus says hastily. “Now that we know you’re healing well, we’ll just focus on your exercises, alright?”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Fjord says, shrugging and pulling the hem of his shirt back down.

Caduceus moves back to his side, not quite meeting his eye as he begins walking him through his usual warm-ups and stretches, still asking how his pain is and how his shoulder feels but still seeming strangely distracted the entire session.

“Want me to wait?” Fjord asks half an hour later when they’re finishing up, gesturing with his thumb towards the entry. “We can walk down together.”

“Oh, no, go ahead,” Caduceus says, picking up a file from his desk Fjord recognizes as his own and flipping through it. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay,” Fjord doesn’t leave immediately, frowning at the way Caduceus still isn’t looking at him. “I’ll find us a table then.”

Caduceus glances up at him at last, smiling, though it’s stiff and wooden, so unlike the smile he usually gives Fjord that it catches him off-guard. He’s halfway to asking if he’s done something wrong when Caduceus’ expression softens, his smile fading entirely before returning more genuine and familiar.

“I’ll be right down,” he says, nodding to the door. 

Fjord gives him a wary look before heading out into the entry, waving to Jester and making his way back down to the street and into the cafe next door. 

The smell of coffee and fresh pastries hits his nose before he’s even fully through the door and his stomach growls almost automatically. It’s a cramped affair but in a way that makes it feel cozy rather than crowded, with a single dark counter holding a pastry case and cash register. The walls are bare, exposed brick, a handwritten menu on a chalkboard behind the register. There are only three tables, one of which is occupied by an elderly woman reading a book, and Fjord settles at the table next to the window, laying his jacket over the back of his chair and closing his eyes against the warm afternoon sunlight.

He glances towards the door when he hears it sweep open a few minutes later, Caduceus ducking his head in what looks to be a learned gesture as he steps inside. He’s donned a thin cardigan over his scrubs, a loose, well-worn thing that he absently pulls more securely around his gangly frame as his eyes find Fjord and he smiles brightly. His hair is free from its usual bun and Fjord is taken aback by how long it actually is, falling over his shoulders and stopping almost halfway down his back.

“Just coffee?” he says as he approaches Fjord.

“Coffee’s fine,” Fjord replies.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Just cream.”

Caduceus nods and heads to the counter to order and Fjord turns back to look through the wide window. The sunlight dims as a bank of grey clouds pass across it overhead and he shivers automatically at the loss of warmth.

“Here you go.”

He glances up as Caduceus sets a large mug in front of him, sinking into his own seat across from him with a smile, the string of a tea bag draped across the lip of his mismatched mug.

“Thanks,” Fjord mutters, looking down into his mug. Pale clouds of cream billow up from the bottom, the surface steaming gently. 

“Is that alright?” Caduceus says, pausing in the process of emptying a packet of honey into his tea. “Not too much cream?”

“No, it’s good,” Fjord says, taking a careful sip. He watches Caduceus stir his tea with a wooden stirrer and blow lightly on the surface before cupping the mug in both hands and breathing in a lungful of steam with a contented hum.

“To your health,” he says, smiling as he touches his mug lightly to Fjord’s with a gentle _ clink _ of ceramic. 

“Don’t you like coffee?” Fjord asks curiously as Caduceus takes a tentative sip, seemingly approving of the taste as he takes a larger one before setting the mug back on the table.

“I don’t mind it,” he replies with a shrug. “I prefer tea, though. We drank it all the time growing up. One of those things that just carried over, I guess. You know?”

“Yeah,” Fjord says, though he doesn’t know. He’d hopped through so many foster homes he barely remembers half of them, much less had time to adopt any sort of routines from them. “I didn’t realize how long your hair was,” he says, eager to change the subject. It makes his stomach ache with jealously sometimes, listening to Caduceus talk about his family. “It must be hard to take care of.”

Caduceus glances at where his hair is hanging loose around his face, tucking it absently behind his ear. 

“It can be,” he says. “I’ve always had it long, though, so I guess I don’t really think about it much anymore. Washing it can be a pain.” His eyes flick up to Fjord’s own short-cropped hair. “You probably don’t have that problem.”

“Chlorine kind of destroys your hair,” Fjord says, grimacing as he combs his fingers through his hair. It’s loose and tousled now rather than pushed back as he normally wears it. “I never let it get too long. My friend Molly always cuts it for me.”

“That’s the yoga instructor, yes?” Caduceus says, taking another sip of his tea.

“Mm, yeah. He’s… well, Molly is unique, let’s leave it at that.” 

Caduceus chuckles.

“He seems like a good friend, though,” he says. “And Beau.”

“Yeah,” Fjord smiles at the thought of them. 

“Did you all meet in college?”

“Beau and I did.” He takes another careful sip of coffee. “She was two years below me. I met Molly a year or so after graduation, we used to live in the same building. After Beau graduated we all just kind of fit together.”

Caduceus smiles. “It’s good to have friends like that,” he says. “And Vandren,” he adds. “He seems like a good father. It’s lucky you get him as your coach, too.”

Something cold settles in Fjord’s stomach and he forces himself to keep smiling.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “He’s, um, he’s a good dad.” The lie feels acidic in his mouth and he has to drop his gaze to his drink, sure Caduceus will see through it.

“It’s good to have that sort of support system,” Caduceus continues, seemingly unaware of Fjord’s discomfort. 

“You’re part of that, too, you know,” Fjord says, looking up at him as the clouds break and sunlight streams through the window again, catching little motes in the air and making the long sheet of Caduceus’ hair shine golden.

Caduceus looks surprised but touched by his words.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says.

He smiles, a wide, warm smile that Fjord has seen dozens of times but suddenly makes him feel like he can’t breathe. His chest feels impossibly tight, as if someone has forced all the air out of his lungs so rapidly he feels dizzy. He sets his cup down so hard his drink sloshes over the rim and across his fingers, spilling over the edge of the table onto his jeans.

“Are you okay?” Caduceus says, looking at his hand in concern and reaching for a napkin.

“Fine,” Fjord says stiffly. He stands up, his chair scraping so loudly across the floor the old woman sitting across the room looking up from her book disapprovingly. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says, still looking worried as Fjord walks to the bathroom, forcing himself not to sprint. 

He shuts the door behind him, leaning back against it and clutching his hand over his heart, feeling it pounding against his chest.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “Fuck, fuck, _ fuck_, you _ idiot_.” He strides to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, staring at his flushed reflection in disbelief. 

“You cannot have a _ crush _ on your physical therapist, what is wrong with you?” he hisses at it, gripping the edges of the sink so hard his knuckles pale. “_Fuck_.”

He bows his head over the sink, taking a few deep breaths to try and regain his bearings.

“It’s okay,” he mutters, looking back at his reflection. “It’s okay, I’m sure this happens all the time, right? It’s probably a thing, people crushing on their doctor.” 

His reflection merely blinks back at him.

“Okay. Alright. It’s fine,” he says, raking his fingers through his hair. He yanks a few paper towels out of the dispenser and wipes his face dry, fruitlessly dabbing at the wet spot on his pant leg before giving up and shoving the towels into the trashcan. “Just pretend like nothing’s different and maybe he won’t notice.” 

He pokes his head out of the bathroom, glancing across the room at Caduceus where he’s absently looking out the window, chin propped on his hand. His long ears are down and relaxed, his hair pulled over one shoulder now, soft and sleek-looking in the light still pouring through the window. He looks peaceful. But worse than that he looks _ attractive_. Beautiful is the first word that pops into Fjord’s traitorous brain.

He’s tempted to draw his head back into the room and bang it firmly against the wall a few times to try and jostle his brain back into place. But then Caduceus looks over at him and smiles and his knees suddenly feel dangerously weak.

“Dammit,” he mutters under his breath before plastering a smile on his face and walking back to the table.

“Alright?” Caduceus says as he returns to his seat.

“Huh?” Fjord says dumbly. “Oh, yeah, fine.” He clears his throat and takes a gulp of his coffee, ignoring the way it blisters down his throat. 

“I actually need to get going,” he lies, “I, um, forgot I was meeting with Vandren later.”

“Oh,” Caduceus says. Fjord hates the way his whole body seems to droop with disappointment. “Alright. I’ll talk to you this evening, I guess?”

“Sure,” Fjord says distantly, shrugging on his jacket even though he feels overly hot. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“Of course,” Caduceus says. He still looks faintly confused and maybe a little hurt by his abruptness. “Have a good rest of your day.”

Fjord nods, raising one hand in a brief wave before shoving them both in his pockets and pushing out into the mercifully cool afternoon air. He glances back at Caduceus before he can stop himself, nearly tripping on his own feet when Caduceus is looking back at him. He smiles hesitantly and raises one hand in a wave that Fjord doesn’t return, resolutely turning away and walking the opposite direction despite the knot of guilt it makes him feel.

“You’re screwed,” he mutters, stopping as he reaches the corner and waiting for the light to change. He groans in frustration, staring up at the overcast sky. “You are so fucking screwed.”


	6. Chapter 6

When he messages Caduceus that night, putting it off for almost an hour after he’s done his exercises but thinking it will be more obvious if he cuts him out completely, he keeps his responses brief and clipped. He can practically feel Caduceus’ confusion through the phone at his one and two word responses, guilt prickling under his skin at the memory of how he’d all but wilted when Fjord had cut their date—not a date, _ not _adate—short.

He’s grateful for the upcoming weekend giving him a chance to try and sort his own thoughts, wondering if he might be able to feign sick Monday to skip his next session altogether. With Thanksgiving falling on the following Thursday, it would give him a full week and a half to get over this misguided infatuation entirely. He’s not so lucky, though, when Caduceus responds to his brusque message Saturday morning after he’s gotten back from his usual run and done his assigned exercises.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ did I do something wrong? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ If I did, I’m sorry. I’d like to fix it if I did. _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I miss talking to you. _

Fjord swears under his breath as he reads the messages, his stomach simultaneously swooping happily and sinking with guilt. It’d be a lie to say he doesn’t miss talking to Caduceus, too. Apart from Beau, Molly, and occasionally Vandren, there’s no one else he keeps in consistent contact with. He’s been failing miserably trying not to think about him, attempting to distract himself with extra long runs in the morning and forcing himself out of the house if only to wander around the city, itching to take his phone out and talk to him like they’ve been talking for the last few weeks. 

He knows it’s something that happens, people developing feelings for their doctor or therapist—he’d looked it up in a panic after bolting from the coffee shop. Transference, it was apparently called. But when he read about it, it hadn’t sat right in his brain. He’s not projecting feelings on Caduceus. He just _ has feelings _ for him. Caduceus is kind and warm and attractive. He’s honest with Fjord almost to a fault and has refused to let him stew in his own self-pity. It’s not his being his physical therapist that attracts Fjord to him. It’s everything else. He doesn’t think most people who feel that sort of thing stay up talking to their doctors until near midnight each night.

He abhors how complicated it makes everything feel when it should—could, if he wasn’t seeing him as a patient—be as simple as developing feelings for someone he’s been spending most of his waking hours talking to. He probably should have expected it. 

The problem is that he doesn’t know how to face Caduceus now. He knows, surely, Caduceus doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he’d said himself he frequently became friends with his patients, it’s Fjord’s own fault for letting himself fall past that tipping point into developing romantic feelings for him. He does know, though, that it’s not fair to Caduceus to cut their relationship off entirely when he has no idea why. Not fair to let him think _ he’s _the one who fucked up when Fjord is the one at fault.

He blows out a slow breath and flops onto the couch, staring at Caduceus’ messages and trying to think up a lie that he won’t question. His brain refuses to supply him one.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ you didn’t do anything wrong _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ oh _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ do you just not want to talk to me? If you don't, I’ll leave you alone. _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I do want to talk to you. Just been a little distracted I guess. Missing the water, you know? _

It’s not strictly a lie. He _ has _ been itching to swim or even to drive down to the ocean if not to just stand with his feet in the cold surf to smell the brine and feel the rush of water across his skin.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ You sure that’s all? _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ promise _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ you didn’t do anything wrong _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ That’s a relief. I’ve been worried about it since you left Thursday. _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ are you busy this weekend? Maybe we could get coffee again? _

Fjord stares at the question. He wants so badly to say yes, tells himself that he can and will get over what he’s feeling. But he knows he can’t do that if he’s spending as much time with Caduceus as he has been.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I would but I’m pretty busy all weekend. Poker tonight and I’m seeing Vandren tomorrow. Sorry, maybe next time? _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ sure, next time _

Fjord waits for another message to come but it doesn’t. He hates how much it makes his heart sink with disappointment. He knows it’s probably for the best, to distance himself from Caduceus as much as he wishes he didn’t have to. Distance gives him a chance to try and at least get his feelings in check. Distance is safe.

He can’t help but check his phone periodically throughout the day, though it remains silent. He spends the afternoon wandering around the city again, meandering his way to a nearby park and sitting on a bench by the duck pond to watch the few lingering ducks and geese that haven’t finished their trip south pick at the grass on the banks. 

When the sun begins to dip lower in the sky and the air chills around him, he makes his way back to his apartment, setting out the usual fare for when Beau and Molly arrive. He swallows down one of his pain pills, shaking the bottle and grimacing at the few remaining at the bottom. He resolves to go to the pharmacy Monday to get his new prescription filled despite the voice in the back of his head that sounds weirdly like Beau telling him it’s a bad idea.

There’s a knock at the door and he stuffs the bottle back into his sock drawer where he's started storing it before heading out to greet Molly and Beau, who walk past him into the living room still continuing whatever conversation they’d been having in the hall.

“They won’t even notice, Beau, please?” Molly is saying, hands clasped beseechingly in front of him as he trails after her.

“Twenty bottles, Molly?!” Beau replies incredulously as she sets down a pack of cheap beer on the coffee table and takes her usual seat. “They’ll definitely notice.”

“Just take like three at a time,” Molly says, sinking onto the floor next to her. “The party’s not for four weeks, you have plenty of time!”

Beau rolls her eyes.

“What are you arguing about now?” Fjord says curiously, tossing the deck of cards towards Molly as he sinks into the couch.

“Beau won’t steal wine from her shitty parents for my party,” Molly answers petulantly, giving Fjord a pleading look.

“I’ll take _ some_,” Beau corrects him and flicks his horn. “Twenty bottles though, Molly? I don’t have a death wish. Besides, why do you need twenty bottles, you have like two dozen people at these things.”

“And they deserve fancy wine,” Molly retorts.

“By ‘they’, do you mean Caleb?” Beau says, smirking.

“No,” Molly says haughtily even as his cheeks color. “I want all my guests to enjoy themselves.”

Beau hums doubtfully and takes a beer from the pack for herself, tipping it towards Fjord. “You’re still coming right? You’re not making me deal with Romeo over here alone, are you?”

“No, I’ll be there,” Fjord replies, ignoring Molly’s offended look and taking a beer for himself. “It’ll be a nice distraction from all the nothing I’ve been doing.”

“Dude, you should get a job,” Beau says. “Even if it’s a shitty one. Keep you occupied, at least.”

“Vandren doesn’t want me to risk hurting my shoulder more,” Fjord replies with a morose sigh. “He said after I’m finished physical therapy he’ll think about it. And it’s not like I don’t have plenty of tournament money saved up.”

“Seems like it’s going well, at least,” Molly says, nodding to Fjord’s shoulder. “You don’t seem bothered by it as much.”

“Yeah,” Fjord says, feeling a twinge of guilt in his stomach at the thought of Caduceus, his eyes automatically flicking to his phone. “Yeah, it’s going alright, I guess.”

“Something’s wrong,” Beau says suddenly. She narrows her eyes suspiciously and leans across the table towards him. “Why are you all moody again?”

“I’m not _ moody_,” Fjord scoffs.

“No, she’s right,” Molly adds, squinting at him scrupulously. “Last week you were—what was the word you used?”

“Chipper,” Beau responds, still eyeing Fjord closely.

“Yeah,” Molly nods. “You’re not now, what happened?

“Christ, do you guys have to interrogate me every time you come over?” Fjord says irritably.

“Hang on,” Beau says slowly, a grin spreading across her face. “Are you seeing someone?”

“What? No!” 

“That’s what it was,” Beau crows, clapping her hands together and pointing at him excitedly. “You were smitten!” She folds her arms on the table and leans towards him expectantly, ignoring his scoff at her word choice. “What happened? You get turned down? Who is it? Do we know them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you could not be further off base,” Fjord says, trying to keep his voice flat even as heat crawls up his neck.

The two of them exchange smirks.

“Come on, Fjord,” Molly all but sings, propping his chin on one hand and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You’ve had a lot of time on your hands, perfect opportunity to date, now. Did you meet them online?”

“I didn’t meet anyone anywhere!” Fjord says a little desperately, suddenly feeling cornered.

His phone buzzes on the table and all three of them snap their gazes towards it. Fjord grabs for it but Beau is faster, snatching it from the table and leaping back out of his reach when he reaches for her.

“Who is it, who is it?” Molly cries gleefully, scrambling after her and peering over her shoulder.

Beau’s eyes scan the screen and Fjord prays silently it’s just one of Vandren’s usual check-ins. He knows he’s had no such luck, though, when her eyebrows lift and Molly lets out a shout of laughter.

“_Hey, Fjord_,” Beau begins reading over Molly’s cackling, “_I realized I might have been a little short with you earlier and I wanted to apologize_.” Fjord’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and he sinks back into the couch cushions. “_I know you’re busy, I guess I just missed talking to you the past few days. I hope we can still hang out sometime outside of your appointments if you’re still okay with it. I understand if you’re not, though_. Oh, and there’s a little smiley after it, that’s cute.”

“I _ knew _ you were full of shit,” Molly says triumphantly, pointing an accusatory finger at Fjord. He turns to Beau and pokes her hard in the shoulder. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

Beau grumbles but pulls several bills out of her wallet and slaps them into his palm.

“You were _ betting _ on whether or not I had a crush on my doctor?” Fjord says incredulously, not sure if he should be offended or not.

“Hey, Molly was the one who wanted to do it,” Beau says defensively, slapping Molly’s tail away when he flicks the back of her head with it.

“You _ were _ fairly obvious,” Molly says with a shrug. He steps around the table to plop down on the couch next to Fjord, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “So, did you two fight? _ Did _ he turn you down?”

Beau sits on Fjord’s other side. “Did you turn _ him _ down?”

“No one turned anyone down,” Fjord sighs resignedly. “We’re not—I can’t date my doctor, alright?”

“Who says?” Molly says airily. “I’m dating one of my clients.”

“But you’re not a _ doctor_, Molly,” Fjord replies. “I’m pretty sure that’s against some kind of code of ethics he has or something.”

“Have you asked him?” Beau says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Well… no, but, it would be weird.”

“Weird?” Molly says in disbelief. He holds one hand up like he’s presenting an image to Fjord. “Imagine it. You’re in his office, shirtless, and he’s, I don’t know, rubbing your shoulder or something, and you look back at him and ask if he wants to rub something else.”

Beau snorts loudly.

“I think you watch too much porn,” Fjord replies flatly.

“Why don’t you just take him up on his offer to hang out?” Beau says, shrugging. “Seems like he likes you.”

“I mean… we’ve sort of become friends, I guess,” Fjord mutters. “But he becomes friends with lots of his patients he said.”

“He followed up with me a few times to see how I was doing,” Beau says. “But he definitely didn’t ask me to hang out or text me at—” she glances at Fjord’s phone where it’s still grasped in her hand, “—eight thirty on a Saturday. Do you guys talk a lot?”

“We did,” Fjord says with a sigh. “I’ve kind of… cut it off since I realized.”

“Idiot,” Molly says, smacking the back of his head. “He’s clearly into you, too.”

“Look,” Fjord says, rubbing the back of his head ruefully, “even if he is, that doesn’t mean anything’s going to come out of it. There’s still the fact that I’m one of his patients. Besides, I don’t need a distraction like this right now, I need to focus on recovering.”

“I think this is _ exactly _ the time for a distraction like this,” Beau says, Molly nodding in agreement. “You were just saying how bored you are. Hang out with him, have some fun.”

“Get _ laid_,” Molly adds.

“Fine, _ fine_, I’ll… I’ll hang out with him,” Fjord says, heat burning across his face again. “I’m not making any promises about anything else, though,” he adds, jabbing Molly in the ribs when he smirks.

“Eh, I’ll take it,” Beau shrugs, taking a swig from her beer.

“If you need any advice, you can always ask me,” Molly says sagely, patting the top of his head.

“Yeah, I’ll remember that,” Fjord mutters sardonically.

To his chagrin, they spend the next hour bandying ideas back and forth as how to best for Fjord to try and test whether or not Caduceus returns his feelings. He tries his best to ignore them, made easier by the fact that his thoughts are constantly wandering to the unanswered message from Caduceus on his phone. He’d flat out refused to allow them to help craft a response, assuring them he would answer it after they left. When they’ve polished off the rest of the beer, he ushers the two of them out of his apartment, ignoring Molly’s call of, “have fun sexting!” and Beau’s responding laugh as he shuts the door behind them.

He gathers the usual trash from the living room before working his way through his stretches, pleased by how much stronger his shoulder feels and wondering if Vandren would let him get back into the pool even if just for easy laps. He’s starting to feel stir-crazy. He tries not to think about the weight he knows he’s gained since he’s stopped training.

It’s nearing ten thirty when he finally settles into bed with his phone and pulls up Caduceus’ messages, half-tempted to wait to respond until the following morning out of fear of waking him. His fear that Caduceus will interpret his silence as ignoring him wins out, though.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ sorry for not responding sooner, poker night and I wanted to get my stretches done _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I would like to hang out more, maybe we can figure something out Monday? Are you going out of town for the holidays? _

The response doesn’t come through immediately and he’s nearly slipped into a doze when his phone pings in his hand and he jolts awake again.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’m going to my parents’ house Wednesday but I’ll be back Friday, it’s not a far drive. _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I’d be happy to do something that weekend though, if you’d like _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ let’s talk about it Monday :) _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ k _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ and you didn’t need to apologize before, you weren’t being short with me _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ besides, I was being kind of a dick _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ you weren’t _

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I was, though _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I missed talking to you and I shouldn’t have assumed, it’s not like you don’t have a life or are any obligation to talk to me _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I am glad to hear you don’t want to stop talking though _

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I really like spending time with you, Fjord _

Something squirms happily in Fjord’s stomach and he can’t help but smile at his phone.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I like spending time with you, too _

Beau was right, he really is smitten.

He’s in two minds when he takes his usual seat outside Caduceus’ office Monday afternoon. On one hand, he doesn’t want to risk the possibility of either humiliating himself or losing his newfound friendship with Caduceus by misinterpreting their interactions as flirting—which, despite Beau’s insistence that “no one who’s not flirting talks like that,” he’s still not sure if it’s actually flirting or just the way Caduceus talks to everyone. He’s not sure he would put it past him given his other eccentricities.

On the other hand, he’s finding it increasingly hard to try and tell himself that he’s just feeling a temporary infatuation because of Caduceus’ hand in his recovery and the genuine care he seems to have for him. He’s not used to being on the receiving end of such care and interest. Sure, he knows Beau and Molly care about him. He knows Vandren cares about him in his own way. But there’s something so uniquely tender and straightforward in the way Caduceus talks to him that he still hasn’t quite wrapped his head around fully. It makes him feel vulnerable but in a way that makes him feel, for the first time, that it’s _ okay _for him to feel vulnerable. He’s spent his whole life working to build a thick skin and it feels like Caduceus is sloughing it off to reveal something raw and fragile beneath.

“Fjord?”

Fjord looks up from where he’s been staring unseeing at his boots, Caduceus smiling broadly and gesturing for him to come into the office.

“How are you feeling?” he says when he shuts the door behind Fjord. 

“Good,” Fjord replies, sitting automatically on the edge of the bed. “Feel like I could swim again.”

Caduceus smiles indulgently and Fjord feels something warm and melt inside of him.

“Why don’t see take a look at you and then we can make that decision,” Caduceus says, gesturing for Fjord to remove his bulky sweater so he can look at his shoulder.

Fjord fights back a grimace and slips his sweater over his head to leave him in just his undershirt, exhaling a controlled breath when Caduceus lays his hand on his shoulder and lifts Fjord’s arm experimentally with the other. He’s done it a dozen times before but it feels entirely different now, suggestive almost though he knows it’s not. He can feel goosebumps raise on his skin everywhere his fingertips brush along his arm, heat needling up his neck. It doesn’t help that Molly’s suggestion pops into the back of his brain.

“How’s this?” Caduceus says as he raises Fjord’s arm up and pushes it forward so he’s nearly wrapped his arm around him, his chest not against Fjord’s back but close enough he can feel the warmth radiating off it.

“A little sore but not bad,” Fjord replies gruffly.

Caduceus hums thoughtfully and stretches his arm back towards him instead. “Range of motion improving?” he says.

“Mhm,” Fjord nods, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up when Caduceus turns his head gently to the side, his muscles aching pleasantly at the stretch. Caduceus’ hand runs over the curve of his neck to tilt his head and he shivers.

“Are you cold?” Caduceus says, sounding concerned and peering over his shoulder at him with a frown. “You can put your sweater back on, I just wanted to take a quick look.”

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here,” Fjord lies, taking the opportunity to tug his sweater back on despite the fact that his face feels overly hot.

“I can have Jester turn the heat up?” Caduceus suggests.

“Nope, I’m good,” Fjord says brusquely.

“If you’re sure,” Caduceus says slowly, still sounding faintly curious.

Fjord shakes his head and Caduceus shrugs and moves to his desk to flick open his folder.

“You’re definitely improving,” he says, giving Fjord a proud smile as he leans back against his desk. “I think, if Vandren approved, of course, you would be okay with some light swimming. But nothing strenuous yet. You need to work up to it. And we’ve still got a few weeks together.”

“Really?” Fjord says eagerly, not sure if he’s more pleased by the prospect of getting back in the water or of having more guaranteed time with Caduceus.

“Yeah, I don’t think a little swim would hurt,” Caduceus says, apparently—thankfully—interpreting Fjord’s reaction as solely about swimming again.

“You should join me,” Fjord says before he can stop himself. 

Caduceus gives him a scrutinizing look.

“You're sure want to do that?” he says carefully, almost guarded. “See each other outside of here?”

“Yeah,” Fjord says guiltily. “I do. I’m sorry for… acting the way I did. I guess I was just, I dunno, worried you would think it was weird seeing a patient like that.” He trails off, hoping Caduceus won’t see through the obvious lie but half wishing he’ll read into his words so he can gauge his reaction.

“Why would I think it’s weird?” Caduceus says, frowning in genuine confusion. “I told you I become friends with a lot of my patients. And I thought I made it pretty clear I like talking to you. Is it weird for you?”

“No,” Fjord says quietly. _ Not in the way you think_.

“Then what’s the problem?” Caduceus says, an almost pleading edge to his voice that makes Fjord’s chest ache.

“There’s no problem,” Fjord says. He clears his throat, desperate to break the sudden tension. “You should come swimming with me. If you’d like. We’ll almost be on an even level now.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Caduceus laughs doubtfully, his shoulders relaxing again. He scrunches his face in consideration. “Let me think about it. I might need to work myself up to the idea.”

“You don’t like the water?” 

“Hm, not so much I don’t like it,” Caduceus replies, “I guess I just… I like my familiarity. So it’s a change.”

“I’ll be helping you,” Fjord assures him.

Caduceus smiles.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “Once Vandren says it's okay. Plus, I might not actually have anything to swim in and I don’t imagine where we'll be going is anywhere that’s socially acceptable.”

Fjord laughs, shaking his head. “No, probably not.”

“In the meantime,” Caduceus continues, “Are you free Saturday? I know we’d talked about it, did you still want to do something?”

“What did you have in mind?” 

“How do you feel about horror movies?” Caduceus says, smiling faintly.

“Horror movies?” Fjord echoes, feeling the prickle of apprehensive fear even at the thought.

“Yeah,” Caduceus replies in that unbothered cadence, nodding slowly. “Thought you might want to come over and watch something.”

“Watch a movie? At your place?” Fjord says, needing to clarify with how much the suggestion feels like a date.

“Sure, if you’re up for it,” Caduceus says, expression infuriatingly unreadable as always.

“Okay,” Fjord agrees warily. 

Caduceus beams happily.

They make plans for Fjord to come to Caduceus’ apartment Saturday evening, Caduceus jotting his address on the back of an appointment card and explaining to him how to get to his building from the bus stop, though his round about way of speaking leaves Fjord more confused than anything. They focus on Fjord’s shoulder the rest of the appointment, Fjord slightly thrown by how smoothly Caduceus’ shifts the conversation to more professional concentration on walking him through the usual exercises.

“I guess I’ll see you Saturday,” Caduceus says cheerfully as he walks Fjord out of the office when the hour is up.

Fjord nods, patting his pocket where the card with Caduceus’ address is tucked safely into his wallet.

“It’s a date,” he says, watching Caduceus expression closely.

Caduceus blinks, frowning minutely and giving him a curious look.

“It’s a date,” he repeats, still sounding puzzled but smiling all the same as he opens the door for Fjord, who steps into the hallway, barely containing a frustrated groan as the door closes being him.


	7. Chapter 7

He spends Thursday with Beau and Molly eating take-out and drinking their way through several bottles of cheap wine, ignoring their renewed discussion of how best he can gauge Caduceus’ feelings after his agreement to spend Saturday evening with him.

“He’s got to, though,” Molly scoffs, waving his wine glass about precariously. “Scary movies at _ his place_? That’s like, the biggest giveaway that he’s interested.”

“You guys make me watch scary movies all the time,” Fjord replies with a scowl.

“But that’s because it’s funny watching you shit your pants from fear,” Beau says, smirking. 

“She’s right, it is funny,” Molly agrees.

Fjord sighs and slumps back into the couch cushions, the room tipping around him woozily. “I’m just going to go over and hang out like normal friends do,” he says, not sure if he’s insisting it to them or himself. “And if… if he tries something…” His face prickles with heat as he trails off at the thought of Caduceus pressed against his side and resting his hand on his thigh or slipping his arm around his shoulders.

“Just wait until a really scary moment,” Molly says, leaning forward conspiratorially. “And when it happens, you grab his arm and lean into him and pretend to be scared.”

“It won’t be pretending,” Beau mutters with a grin.

“Perfect cuddling opportunity,” Molly concludes.

Fjord sighs and scratches one hand back across his scalp, taking a deep pull from the bottle of wine before passing it to Beau.

“You’ll tell us if something happens, though, right?” Beau says, narrowing her eyes at him. “We’re _ invested _ now. And you’re canceling poker for this so I think you’re obligated.”

“He can’t bullshit us anyway,” Molly says. “Not about that, at least.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Fjord insists wearily. “But, if it does, sure, I’ll tell you.”

They exchange a grin and Fjord lets his eyes fall shut tiredly, only half-listening to their continued conversation. He’s barely spoken to Caduceus all day and, though he knows it’s because he’s busy with his family, he misses talking to him more than he thinks he strictly normal to miss a person he’s only known for a month. Then again, a lot of the feelings he’s has for Caduceus probably aren’t ones that normally develop as quickly as they have for him.

Caduceus has a certain draw to him, though, that Fjord has lately wondered if any of his other patients had felt similarly. There’s a magnetic warmth about him, inviting and open, that he’s never seen in another person. It’s probably part of what makes him such a good doctor, especially for stubborn patients like him.

He still texts Caduceus that evening after Beau and Molly have left, all three of them full and sleepy, though he still keeps his promise to Caduceus and finishes his exercises as always. There’s, expectedly, no response, though he still feels a sense of lingering disappointment when he finally gives up waiting and crawls into bed, his eyelids drooping dangerously.

He’s nearly drifted off when his phone buzzes and lights up on the bedside table. He reaches for it blearily and squints at the screen.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ sorry I’ve been out of touch all day, I hope I’m not waking you up. I’m proud of you for sticking with it even today, that is commendable resolve. I hope you’re having a good holiday. I’m excited to see you Saturday. Sleep tight, Fjord. _

He smiles sleepily, stomach swooping lazily as he responds with a mirrored sentiment before rolling over and falling asleep.

* * *

Saturday evening he takes the bus to the address Caduceus had scrawled on the back of the business card, walking the four blocks to the small, two story apartment complex set back from the road half-hidden by tall maple trees, the ground around them littered with dry leaves that crunch under his feet. He walks to the back of the building where the door to Caduceus’ apartment has a faded green welcome mat laying in front of it, clutching the sky blue umbrella Caduceus had loaned him weeks ago that he’s consistently forgotten to give back.

Knocking lightly on the door, he rocks on the balls of his feet absently, examining the neat wreath of woven sticks and pine cones and dried flowers hanging from the door. The door swings open after a few seconds, Caduceus smiling warmly the moment his eyes land on him.

“Hey,” he says brightly, standing back to let Fjord in. He’s dressed in a pair of loose sweatpants and a well-worn t-shirt that looks soft with age, his hair pulled back in a familiar, messy bun. “Did you find the place okay? I know I’m not very good with directions.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Fjord says. He holds out the umbrella towards him. “Sorry I kept forgetting to return this.”

“It hasn’t rained again so I’ll let it slide,” Caduceus says with a grin, leaning the umbrella against the wall inside the door as Fjord walks past him, eyes scanning the inside of the apartment. 

It’s slightly larger than his own from what he can see, if a little outdated, the entry leading directly into the living room he’d seen in Caduceus’ picture previously. There are at least two dozen plants of varying sizes scattered around the room, some set on the otherwise nearly empty bookcase while others take up the far wall under the wide picture window, the curtains currently drawn shut. There’s a glass-topped wicker coffee table in front of the couch littered with a stack of manila folders and a chipped mug of what he assumes is gently steaming tea. He can just see the kitchen through the doorway on the far side of the room, white counters and cabinets gleaming dully in the low light.

“Would you like some tea?” Caduceus says, gesturing to the mug on the table.

“Uh, sure,” Fjord replies, shrugging out of his coat and draping it across the matching wicker rocking chair in the corner when Caduceus nods to it.

“Go ahead and have a seat, I’ll be right back,” Caduceus gestures to the couch before heading to the kitchen.

Fjord sits nervously on the far end of the couch, drumming his fingers on his thighs as his eyes take in the room more closely. There’s a small blue watering can on the side table nearest him, a plant with deep purple flowers sitting next to it, the red clay pot set atop a lacy doily. He can hear Caduceus bustling around the kitchen, the soft hiss of water filling a kettle following by the click of the gas stove. Fjord can just hear the faint sound of him humming cheerfully.

There’s an old armoire opposite the couch, the large doors open to reveal a television currently paused on what appears to be a cooking show. There’s a narrow hallway leading off the living room adjacent to the doorway to the kitchen that he assumes leads to Caduceus’ bedroom, a cracked doorway visible across the hall where he can see a darkened bathroom.

“You have a nice place,” Fjord says as Caduceus returns with a steaming mug a few minutes later along with a plate of small, round cookies. 

“Thank you,” Caduceus replies with a pleased smile, setting the plate on the table and passing the mug to Fjord before sitting against the opposite armrest on the couch, his legs curled under him. “It used to belong to my aunt, actually, I moved in a couple years ago when she retired and moved to Florida.”

“That explains the decor,” Fjord says, nodding to the wicker furniture and doilies. 

“This is all mine,” Caduceus says, frowning.

“O-oh,” Fjord stammers, heat creeping up his neck. “Well, I didn’t mean—”

“I’m just kidding, Fjord.” Caduceus’ expression turns amused, almost teasing and Fjord blinks at him in disbelief.

“It’s probably not too far from what I would get, though,” Caduceus continues, picking up his own mug to take a sip. “I like… simplicity.”

“It’s, uh, very homey,” Fjord says and clears his throat. He takes a hasty sip of his own tea, pausing at the soft, floral taste of it.

“I have other flavors,” Caduceus says, “if you don’t like that one.”

“No, no, it’s good,” Fjord shakes his head. He nods to the plate of cookies. “Did you make those?”

“I did,” Caduceus replies with a smile, pushing the plate towards him. “They’re Earl Grey.”

“Is that what you do in your spare time?” Fjord says, picking up one of the thin cookies and taking a tentative bite. It’s sweet and buttery on his tongue.

“Bake?” Caduceus says, shrugging when Fjord nods. “Sometimes. That and take care of my plants. Sometimes they’re a full time job on their own. The orchids are particularly finicky.” He gestures to a small pot by the window containing a single long stemmed orchid, bowed over with bright red blooms. He selects a cookie for himself and takes a small bite, chewing absently, eyes still fixed on the orchid.

Fjord clears his throat and Caduceus turns back to him with a far-away look, blinking and lifting his eyebrows in question.

“Did you… want to watch a movie still or no?” Fjord says, grimacing at how suggestive it sounds to his own ears.

“Oh! Yeah,” Caduceus says, still looking faintly distracted as he picks the remote up from the side table and begins flicking through the selections on the screen. “Have you ever seen _ It Follows_?”

Fjord shakes his head mutely and Caduceus smiles and selects the movie on the screen, setting the remote down and standing to flick off the light as it begins playing. He settles back against the armrest again, cupping his mug between his hands with a contented look.

“Have a good Thanksgiving?” he says, voice hushed slightly with the movie playing.

“Mm, it was okay,” Fjord responds with a shrug. “You?”

“Busy,” Caduceus says with a grimace. “My sisters always drag me along for shopping and my sister Cordelia is expecting so we had to stop every twenty minutes for her.” He sighs, shaking his head with mild exasperation. 

“When is she due?”

“In about three weeks,” Caduceus replies, chuckling when Fjord’s eyes widen. “She refused to miss out. It’s the first grandchild though so everyone is pretty excited.” He smiles softly. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

There’s a gentleness in the way he says it that makes something stumble in Fjord’s chest. He’d spent plenty of time taking care of younger kids both at the group home and his various foster homes, though he’s never really been around new babies, those were the ones that tended to get adopted quickest. Growing up he’d always felt a certain degree of resentment towards the fact.

The movie title appears onscreen and Caduceus holds his finger to his lips with a smile. Fjord clutches his mug in his lap to occupy his hands, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the screen despite the mounting fear creeping up his spine. His face warms when there’s a sex scene barely five minutes into the movie, his eyes flicking to Caduceus, who continues watching with a look of bland interest. He can feel his stomach knotting with anticipation, though he’s not sure if it’s from the movie or the proximity to Caduceus or a combination of the two.

Caduceus sets his mug aside after a few minutes and pulls his hair out of the loose bun, Fjord watching him comb his fingers through his hair out of the corner of his eye. He welcomes the distraction from the movie, watching Caduceus gather his hair up and begin braiding it in a long plait down his back, making a soft, frustrated noise with his tongue when he pulls the braid over his shoulder to finish it and accidentally snags a section on his earring. 

“I can do that,” Fjord offers when Caduceus begins pulling the braid loose to start over. “I used to braid Beau’s hair all the time,” he explains when Caduceus gives him a curious look.

“I’d appreciate that,” he says, smiling. He drops a throw pillow onto the floor and slips off the couch to sit cross-legged on it, gathering his hair behind him and tilting his head forward.

Fjord hesitates before moving to sit behind him, Caduceus shifting forward a few inches so Fjord can rest his legs behind him, swallowing dryly when Caduceus leans back against his shins.

“Do you, um, do you have a brush?” Fjord says, stomach squirming anxiously.

“Mm, in the side table,” Caduceus replies, nodding to the table in question.

Fjord digs through the top drawer until he finds the brush, pausing again before taking a section of Caduceus’ hair in his hand and pulling the brush through it carefully. His hair is soft and smells faintly of shampoo, the brush dragging through it easily without the knots and tangles he was used to combing out of Beau’s hair. There’s someone yelling in the movie but he steadfastly ignores it.

“Did Beau used to have longer hair?” Caduceus says. “I remember it being fairly short when I saw her.”

“Yeah,” Fjord replies, coughing when his voice comes out rough. “Yeah, her parents wouldn’t let her cut it while they were paying for school so it was almost as long as yours. She hated it. I learned how to braid it and so she just wore it up all the time.”

Caduceus hums, sounding almost sleepy, and Fjord glances over his shoulder to see his eyes closed, a soft smile on his face.

“Did she cut it when she graduated?” Caduceus continues.

“Day after graduation, actually,” Fjord says with a chuckle. “Came to my apartment and told me to shave if all off. She let it grow out a little since then, of course. Molly usually cuts it now, I don’t have the finesse to do that.” He threads his fingers in Caduceus’ hair, fingertips brushing over his scalp as he begins to pull his hair back into a single mass, pale pink and silken.

Caduceus sighs quietly, a calm, drowsy sound that makes his shoulders slump as he exhales. “You have very gentle hands,” he murmurs. 

“Thanks... I think,” Fjord mutters, Caduceus chuckling quietly at his response.

“It was a compliment,” he assures him. “My sister used to pull my hair so hard when she braided it I would cry.”

“Your sister doesn’t sound all that friendly from what you’ve told me,” Fjord frowns, setting the brush aside.

“Mm, different sister,” Caduceus says. “I have four of them, remember? Count yourself lucky you’re an only child.”

Fjord forces a stiff laugh, guilt curdling in his stomach as he bites down the truth.

“I’m sure coming from a big family had its moments,” he says, fighting to keep the burn of jealousy out of his voice.

“It did. Does,” Caduceus agrees fairly. “I do love them all, even if they could be, hmm, unkind at times when we were younger. I guess that’s the nature of siblings, though.”

Fjord hums quietly in agreement. He gathers Caduceus’ hair in his hands and divides it into three sections, methodically beginning to layer them over each other with practiced movements, familiar from years of doing for Beau. It’s so different from how it was with Beau, though. There had been a lot more complaining about classes and drinking cheap beer. And braiding Beau’s hair had never made him so nervous his palms sweat. 

Caduceus’ head is tilted forward and Fjord tries not to think about how easy it would be to push his hair aside and run his fingers over the nape of his neck, to watch his skin erupt with goosebumps from his touch and press his lips to the spot. It surprises him how much he wants it, throws him off-balance so much he feels light-headed.

He accepts the elastic tie Caduceus hands back to him when he reaches the tips of his hair, quickly looping it around the bottom of the braid and draping it over Caduceus’ shoulder for his approval.

“You do good work,” Caduceus says as he brushes his fingers over the neat braid. 

“You sound surprised,” Fjord says with a tone of faux offense. 

Caduceus pushes himself back up onto the couch next to him with a quiet laugh.

“You _ are _ full of them,” he says, smiling. He gives Fjord a scrutinizing look. The movie has long since been forgotten, the sound of it a low murmur of background noise. “Not to bring work into this but… how is your shoulder feeling?”

“Good,” Fjord says, rolling his shoulder experimentally. “Much better than a few weeks ago.”

“And were you okay missing a session with the holiday?” Caduceus says. He looks vaguely guilty.

“I did miss it,” Fjord says carefully, “but I think this makes up for it.”

Caduceus gives him a questioning look. “Oh, did you want to… now?”

“I meant I missed seeing you,” Fjord says, eyeing his expression closely for his reaction.

Caduceus blinks, looking taken aback, then smiles, fond and soft.

“Me too,” he says. His eyes lift to Fjord’s browline, expression shifting to one of mild curiosity. “Can I ask… what happened here?” He lifts his hand to brush his thumb over the jagged scar over his left eye and across his forehead. He draws his hand back quickly, looking guilty and apologetic. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have...“

“It’s okay,” Fjord shrugs. He touches the scar absently, the skin rough under his fingertips. “It happened in high school. Kid I grew up with, Sabian.” He pauses, glancing up at Caduceus, his face lit blue from the television, expression attentive and concerned. “He used to swim, too. Vandren coached both of us and, um, we sort of… had a relationship, I guess.”

“He was your boyfriend?” 

Fjord pulls a face. “Eh, I wouldn’t really say that,” he says with a short, humorless laugh. He never counted messy hand-jobs he and Sabian occasionally gave each other as a relationship. “It was more just… doing what teenagers do, you know? He wasn’t the dating type,” he adds when Caduceus looks bemused.

“Ah,” Caduceus says quietly.

“Let’s just say the relationship didn’t end on good terms,” Fjord says with a shrug, gesturing to the scar again. He can almost feel the searing pain across his brow again where Sabian had slashed at him with a broken bottle, furious when Fjord refused to drop out of school with him. He’d been lucky not to lose his eye, the doctor had told him when Vandren rushed him to the hospital after finding him bleeding and nearly unconscious in the locker room. He hasn’t seen Sabian since. Not that he’d wanted to.

“I’m sorry to dig up old wounds,” Caduceus says quietly. “Literally and metaphorically.”

“It was a long time ago,” Fjord replies. “I don’t have any love for him.”

“Well, I’m still sorry,” Caduceus says softly. “It was rude of me to ask.” 

"I don't mind," Fjord says with another shrug.

Caduceus has one leg tucked under him, half facing Fjord on the couch, close enough that his knee is brushing Fjord’s thigh. His hand is resting on the couch between them and Fjord feels the rising temptation to reach out and take it in his own, to move closer to him and press their lips together.

He swears he sees Caduceus’ eyes flick downward but then he blinks and they’re fixed on the television instead as someone onscreen screams. He looks back at Fjord, expression suddenly guarded. 

“Would you like some more tea?” he asks, picking his own still half-full mug up and standing, not quite meeting Fjord’s eye.

“Oh, um, no, I’m good.” He watches with mingled confusion and disappointment as Caduceus collects the plate of cookies and takes it and his mug to the kitchen.

He hears him move around the kitchen, the quiet clink of dishes and sound of him preparing more tea. Fjord stands after a minute, gathering his own mug, and heads to the kitchen after him, stopping briefly in the doorway to watch him scoop loose tea leaves into a teapot from a little wooden box before moving to the stove to turn off the steaming kettle.

Fjord steps into the kitchen, setting his mug on the counter before leaning back against it, watching Caduceus pour hot water into the teapot with the same methodical sort of movement he’d added the tea leaves.

“Did you change your mind?” he says, smiling at Fjord as he moves to his side with his mug. He closes the lid on the teapot and sets a small egg timer for three minutes, setting it on the counter to tick quietly.

Fjord hums in agreement, dumping his cooling tea into the sink before setting the mug on the counter while they wait for the tea to steep. He rubs absently at his shoulder when it throbs dully.

“Alright?” Caduceus says worriedly, laying his hand on Fjord’s shoulder. Even through his sweater it feels like an electric shock.

“Just a little stiff,” Fjord says. “It’s not bad.”

Caduceus doesn’t look entirely convinced, moving half a step closer and looking over his shoulder carefully.

“I’m fine, Caduceus,” Fjord says. 

“If you’re sure,” Caduceus lets his hand fall back at his side and Fjord has to rest his hand on the lip of the counter to keep himself from stopping him. The egg timer buzzes and Caduceus sets about pouring them both fresh cups of tea.

They return to the couch, Fjord forcing himself to focus on sipping his tea when Caduceus sits next to him. They watch the rest of the movie in silence, Fjord barely paying attention to the plot having missed most of the first half. Though at one point he jumps almost reflexively at something onscreen, his hand grabbing automatically for Caduceus' arm next to him. He withdraws just as quickly when he realizes what he’s done, muttering an apology and grateful for the darkness so Caduceus can’t see his expression.

“Don’t you like scary movies?” Caduceus whispers, leaning towards him with a look of mingled concern and confusion.

“I just, um, I scare easily,” Fjord replies. “Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Want me to turn it off?” Caduceus says, resting his hand gently on Fjord’s forearm.

Fjord shakes his head silently, fixing his eyes back on the screen, though he feels Caduceus watching him for a few more seconds before he turns his attention back to the movie as well. His hand lingers on Fjord's arm for almost a full minute before he pulls it back with a reassuring squeeze.

Fjord can’t stop his eyes from wandering to him every few minutes for the last half hour of the movie, taking in the slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the line of his neck. He’s struck again by just how attractive he is, with his high cheekbones, long, pale eyelashes, and the curtain of sleek hair still pulled into the neat braid over one shoulder. He thinks then that there’s no way he’s the first of his patients to fall for him and wonders if the others who did ever acted on their feelings.

He can hear Beau and Molly’s voices in the back of his head telling him to try something if only to see how he’ll react. And he wants to so badly his lungs feel heavy in his chest from it. The feeling is foreign, so far from his other experiences with Sabian and Avantika that there’s still something telling him it’s because Caduceus is the first person to have this much faith in him, the first to treat him so kindly yet directly, that of course he would fall for him.

He’s still a little lost in his own thoughts when the movie ends, so much so that he doesn’t realize it’s over until Caduceus stands and turns the light back on and he has to blink against the harshness of it.

“Can I get you anything else?” Caduceus says, glancing at the clock hanging from the wall, dark wood and ornately carved. It’s just past nine. “Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m alright,” Fjord says. He stands and stretches his arms over his head with a yawn, wincing at the dull pain in his shoulder.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Caduceus says, approaching him and looking worriedly at his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Fjord replies and rubs the spot absently. 

Caduceus’ brow is still furrowed in a frown like he's trying to decide if he believes him. Some of his hair has come free from the braid, hanging loose over his cheek, and Fjord reaches up to tuck it back behind his ear without thinking. He lets his fingertips brush along the shell of his ear, surprised at the soft, downy fur there. He stills when he sees Caduceus staring back at him, suddenly still.

“Sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t pull his hand away, waiting, holding his breath. He lets his fingers touch lightly to Caduceus’ jaw. “You had…”

Caduceus’ eyes flick over his face, his mouth opens with a quick inhale, and Fjord tilts his chin up the barest amount, his eyes dropping automatically to Caduceus’ lips as he waits. But rather than closing the rest of the gap, Caduceus lowers his gaze and his expression turns suddenly wary, guilty, his lips pressed together firmly.

“It’s getting late,” he says quietly, eyes still lowered. “You don’t want to miss your bus.”

“Oh,” Fjord says, withdrawing his hand at last as his stomach sinks. He thinks he sees the shadow of a grimace pass over Caduceus’ face but it’s gone before he can try and discern it. “Right.”

The rejection burns like a brand on his lungs. The once comfortable silence feels suddenly strained and awkward, the ticking of the clock on the wall too loud in the otherwise still room. He hurries to tug on his shoes and coat, pausing at the door when Caduceus grips his uninjured shoulder gently. 

“I’ll see you Monday,” he says. It sounds like a question, like he’s afraid Fjord will push him off and disappear completely. Part of him wants to, if only out of sheer embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Fjord mutters, unable to fully meet his eye, shame burning his face and neck. “Yeah, I’ll see you Monday.”

Caduceus looks faintly relieved, smiling as he squeezes Fjord’s shoulder before pulling his hand away. Fjord is grateful for him leaving it unspoken, he’s not sure he could handle him flat-out saying it out loud right now, the silent rejection is enough as it is. 

“See you then,” Caduceus says. He still looks almost guilty, something guarded and unreadable about his expression Fjord can’t pick out.

Fjord simply nods, forcing a smile before stepping out into the evening air. He’s grateful for the cold air to help clear his head and lungs of the oppressive weight suddenly occupying them.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his hand over his face once he’s half a block from Caduceus’ apartment. “_Fuck_.”

It hurts more than he wants to admit, though he’s glad to have a definitive answer without having to embarrass himself even more than he already has. He’s grateful especially for Caduceus not making a big deal out of it, hoping that things won’t become awkward between them for his own foolishness. Because he still cares about Caduceus, still wants to spend time with him and be close to him, even as friends. He hopes Caduceus still feels the same way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for comments! I have chapter 9 finished and am working on 10 now :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for portrayal of drowning

The air around him is thick and black and heavy, pressing in on his ears and against his sightless eyes.

It takes him only a few seconds to realize it’s not air, but water surrounding him, his limbs moving sluggishly through it, his body suspended in its endless darkness. No sooner does he realize it than his lungs begin to burn with the need for oxygen. He struggles to push upward, though he has no idea which way is up, every direction nothing but murky, icy black. 

His arms thrash and he rockets forward, his shoulder aching from the strain on his muscles and panic crawling up his throat, his lips pressed together tightly. He opens his mouth to try and call out and frigid, dank water rushes into it. There’s no air left in his lungs to make any noise beyond a terrified gurgle. Something slimy coils around his ankle and he tries to kick out against it, only for his other foot to get tangled in it. Fear whites the edges of his brain and he struggles violently against whatever is holding him, pulling him down deeper into the clouded water.

He tries to scream again though he knows it’s useless and his lungs fill with water. It burns and claws at his chest from the inside, his head throbbing so bad he can’t keep his eyes open from the searing pain across. 

He struggles weakly to try and swim upward again, but his legs are wrapped to his knees. He can feel his strength fading rapidly as black even deeper than the water around him creeps into his vision. And then there’s nothing.

He sits up so abruptly he gives himself vertigo, his head spinning as he clutches his chest and gulps down lungfuls of wonderfully clear air. He shivers violently, touching his fingers to his forehead and realizing with a jolt that he’s covered in sweat, his entire body shuddering as it cools on his skin.

Taking a few more steadying breaths, he struggles shakily out of bed and to his feet. He catches himself against the nightstand when his knees wobble unsteadily, knocking his phone to the floor at his feet. The screen lights up and he sees it’s just past four.

He picks it up and moves to his dresser, tugging open the top drawer and digging through to the bottom where the freshly filled prescription of pain killers is lying. His whole body aches and he can barely get the lid off with how badly he’s shaking. He heads to the kitchen to fill a glass of water at the sink, downing it and the pill in three gulps.

He leans back against the counter and shuts his eyes. His heart is still racing in his chest, breathing still rapid and shallow. The burning in his lungs is still present, as if he’d actually had his face pressed underwater and had been forced to breathe it in. Logically he knows it had probably been him simply not taking a breath in his sleep, though even that he’s not sure how to explain. It’s not the first time he’s been forced awake like this, though. He’s been dreaming of drowning with increasing frequency since his injury and, while he blames it on his brain trying to process the sudden shift in his future, it doesn't make them any less unpleasant.

Flipping the sink back on, he waits until the water runs cold before splashing it on his face to try and help clear his head. He knows there’s no point trying to go back to sleep when his alarm is going to wake him in an hour for his run anyway. Not to mention he doesn’t feel like inviting anymore dreams.

So he gets dressed in his running gear, his arm strapped against his chest by the sling, resolving to simply take a longer route for his run this time. He’s halfway out the door when he pauses, glancing at the phone in his hand.

He wavers indecisively for a few seconds before making up his mind, opening the ongoing conversation he has with Caduceus—silent since they’d said their good nights from their daily evening conversation the night before—and leaning against the closed door as he tries to allay his thoughts.

It’s been nearly a week since Caduceus had so gently and mutely rejected him and, much to Fjord’s relief, little has changed between them since. His fear that things would be awkward was quickly assuaged the next appointment he’d had with Caduceus the previous Monday, during which Caduceus had been mercifully silent on the matter, as warm and pleasant as he’d always been and asking Fjord if he was busy that weekend and might like to spend Saturday together. Fjord’s not sure he’d be able to stomach things being strained between them. 

Though he thinks it’s there sometimes. Not anything uncomfortable, but a tight, suffused tension heavy with something undefinable when the silence is just a little too long and he thinks he sees a flash of that same guilt cross Caduceus’ face. But then one of them speaks and everything returns to normal again. That feeling like his skin is prickling with static electricity only to touch his finger to something and be hit by a sudden jolt before it saps away entirely.

** _Fjord: _ ** _ I hope I’m not waking you up. I know it’s stupid but I had a weird dream and it shook me up a little. I kind of wanted to talk to someone about it. I’m going out running now but when you do wake up, could we talk? _

He chooses his words carefully though even then it sounds silly reading over them. He’s not sure why this particular dream—well, nightmare, he supposes—has made him so uneasy. He’s been having similar dreams since he injured his shoulder and it doesn’t take a genius to realize the association between them and losing his ability to swim. They hadn’t felt this real before, though. The others had been flashes of dark water and that creeping wrap of something around his legs, but this is the first time he’s woken up feeling so  _ scared _ . Feeling like he’d actually stopped breathing entirely. Part of him was sure he’d cough up water when he’d awoke with how vivid it had been.

He’s fairly sure Caduceus is the last person to judge him, though, so he sends the message before tucking his phone into his pocket and setting off into the cold early morning air. It’s still pitch black outside apart from the dim moonlight and scattered stars and the yellow blur of street lamps along the sidewalk.

He jogs down his familiar route deeper into the city, focusing on the steady thump of his feet on the pavement and the sound of his own breathing. It’s centering, feeling the cool air fill his lungs and his heart beat strong and alive against his ribs. 

With how early he’d woken up, he decides to take a longer route through the city than he normally does, passing by the still dark windows of restaurants and shops, the occasional twenty-four hour pharmacy or convenience store glowing singularly every block or so. He sees the odd runner and morning commuter as he goes, though the streets are mostly empty, peaceful and still around him.

It’s just past five when his phone buzzes in his pocket and he stops, panting lightly from exertion, to pull it out. He’s surprised to see Caduceus calling him, hurrying to answer the call before it goes to voicemail and holding the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he says, tone unsure and a little guilty at the idea of possibly having woken Caduceus up for something that now feels even more ridiculous than when he’d sent the message nearly an hour ago.

“Hey,” Caduceus replies. His voice is rough and low with sleep.

“You didn’t have to call,” Fjord says, taking a seat on a nearby bench along the sidewalk as he catches his breath. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Hm? No, I just woke up from my alarm,” Caduceus says around a yawn. “Saw your message.”

It’s oddly endearing hearing him like this, his words still slurring drowsily, hushed in that way that Fjord thinks he must have woken up and immediately called him after seeing the message. The thought makes something painfully fond stir in his chest.

“It could have waited,” Fjord says, lowering his volume to match the quiet of Caduceus’ voice. It makes the whole conversation feel incredibly private like so many of their talks do.

“You seemed upset,” Caduceus says. Fjord can hear the frown in his voice. “I didn’t interrupt you, did I? Are you busy now?”

“No, just running,” Fjord replies. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky, inhaling a deep breath of crisp, cold air. “Helps take my mind of things.”

Caduceus hums in response and stifles another yawn. Fjord hear the faint creak of bedsprings and shift of fabric on skin through the phone.

“So. What was your dream about?” Caduceus says. He sounds slightly more cognizant now, more present. Serious.

Fjord relays the dream to him, keeping his eyes open as he recounts it and feels the creep of fear up his spine at the thought of that oppressive darkness. He tells him about how he’d woken up feeling like he’d actually  _ been  _ drowning, like his body had forgotten to draw breath in his sleep. The thought still leaves him shaken.

Caduceus makes a considering sound when he’s finished and Fjord can practically hear him mulling it over in his head on the other end of the line.

“Well,” he begins after a few seconds of silence, “I’ve had some weird dreams before but I wouldn’t consider myself an expert on them. And, like I said, I’m not that kind of therapist. But I imagine you can probably blame it on what you’re going through right now. You’re feeling trapped and… helpless. You can’t swim right now so that’s manifesting itself in your dreams, too.” 

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Fjord sighs. “It’s just… it’s not fun… waking up not being able to breathe. Or, feeling that way at least.”

“I can imagine,” Caduceus says sympathetically. He makes a hesitant noise before continuing, “Forgive me if I’m overstepping but have you considered maybe talking to a therapist about all this? If nothing else it might help with the dreams.”

“I’m not really sure I want to do that,” Fjord mutters with a grimace. The idea of talking to a complete stranger about things he barely talks to his closest friends about makes his skin crawl. “It’s not that big a deal anyway. Just a dream.”

“Alright,” Caduceus says, sounding doubtful but like he doesn’t want to push Fjord too hard on the matter. “I just worry.” He clears his throat. “You might want to talk to a regular doctor about your sleep though, you could have sleep apnea. Although if it’s only happened once… maybe just think about it.”

“I will,” Fjord agrees. He looks down at his shoes, unable to keep from smiling faintly at the thought of Caduceus’ presence on the other end of the line, at the thought that he cares enough to worry about him. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but he appreciates it all the same. He thinks if he texted Beau or Molly at four in the morning he’d probably get either no response or an earful from them when they finally woke up. 

Not that they don’t care about him, he knows they care as deeply for him as he does for them. But Caduceus is something else entirely, so generous with his concern and support that Fjord feels almost guilty accepting it. He wonders if Caduceus ever reserves any of it for himself.

“If you ever just need to talk,” Caduceus says gently, “about… anything, you can always call me.”

“Thank you,” Fjord says, “you’re a good friend, Caduceus.”

Fjord’s chest squeezes painfully at the word, the feeling followed immediately by a rush of guilt. How selfish is he to still want more from Caduceus after everything he gives him?

“Are you still free to meet tomorrow?” Caduceus says hopefully. 

“Mm, yeah I’m free,” Fjord says. He feels exhausted again, thinking he might try and catch back up on sleep when he gets back to his apartment.

“There’s a bus stop at the corner of Marietta and Simpson,” Caduceus says so easily it almost sounds rehearsed. Fjord wonders if he’d looked up the bus route for stops closest to wherever they’re going. The thought makes his chest tighten again. “Meet there around two?”

“I’ll be there.”

He can nearly feel Caduceus smile through the phone.

“Try and get some more sleep,” Caduceus says when Fjord yawns. “And don’t hesitate to call if you have any more weird dreams or… just need to talk.”

“Thank you,” Fjord says quietly. “For… talking. For everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Caduceus replies. He pauses and Fjord can hear the hesitation in his voice again. “Are you sure you’re alright, Fjord? Do you want to come over and talk?”

Part of him wants to take Caduceus up on the offer, if only to have the chance to be in that calming presence he so strongly exudes that never fails to ease his nerves. But he knows Caduceus has to work soon and he’s not sure how smart it is for him to be alone in Caduceus’ home with him right now with the faint sting of rejection still fresh under his skin. He needs to give himself the chance to move on rather than let himself fall even more deeply for him. 

He thinks he might need to let himself be alone now, anyway, find a way to settle his rattled mind on his own. There’s an itch at the base of his skull, like something is settling uncomfortably into his brain, that makes him feel uneasy and he glances over his shoulder automatically, though there’s nothing there by the darkened houses and lawns along the side of the road.

“I’m okay,” Fjord insists. “I’m sorry to worry you, it’s really nothing.” He continues before Caduceus has a chance to speak, “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“Of course,” Caduceus says, sounding curious.

“Do you… hm… do you pray? Is that—sorry, I don’t really know anything about religion.”

“Well... it’s more meditation,” Caduceus says. He sounds confused at the change in subject. “Buddhism isn’t about the belief in a god like most religions.”

“What do you believe in, then?” Fjord asks, frowning.

Caduceus hums thoughtfully, an indulgent sound. “It’s… more about the belief in people,” he says slowly. He chuckles. “Sometimes I think that can be harder than believing in God. It’s about accepting that suffering is natural and learning to overcome it and being malleable and open to change and growth. About doing what’s right and good. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” Fjord replies honestly. “Just curious, I guess.”

“Are you interested in Buddhism?” Caduceus says carefully.

“I’m not sure,” Fjord balks, “I, um, I guess I just thought maybe if I could find a way to… I dunno, calm my brain down maybe I could stop having these dreams. I don’t know if that’s how it works.”

“Hm, maybe, maybe not, it can be different things for different people,” Caduceus says pensively. “But I know meditating is a good way to clear your mind, even if you’re not doing it for religious reasons. Maybe give it a try. I can always help if you need it.”

“Yeah,” Fjord mutters. “Maybe I’ll try it. Thanks, Cad.”

“You’re welcome,” Caduceus says quietly. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Two o’clock?”

“Two o’clock,” Caduceus echoes. “Get some rest, Fjord.”

Fjord bids him goodbye and the call ends. He stares at his phone for a full ten seconds before standing and stretching out some of the stiffness in his muscles and heading back to his apartment to shower and try to get a few more hours of sleep. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep after crawling back into bed, relaxed and warm from the shower. 

He still dreams. But rather than cold, black water, it’s instead of Caduceus. Of his calming voice and of warm, golden light that seems to seep so fully into his muscles that when he wakes up several hours later feeling more rested than he has in weeks, he still feels enveloped by it.

He’s been lying there savoring that feeling, half drifting back to sleep, for a minute or two when there’s a sharp knock on his front door from the hall. He sits up, frowning in confusion at who would be outside his apartment this early on a Friday morning when he hears a familiar voice call from the other side of the door.

“Fjord!” Vandren says. He sounds irritated and Fjord wonders if he hadn’t been knocking for awhile and woken him up without realizing. 

“Coming,” Fjord calls back. He scrubs sleep from his eyes and shambles out into the hall, yawning widely as he opens the front door on a scowling Vandren, dressed in his usual faded jeans and dark windbreaker, his thinning hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Been out here for five minutes, what the hell—were you sleeping?” Vandren eyes his rumpled clothes and hair incredulously. “It’s nine o’clock, boy, what are you doing in bed still? Don’t tell me you stopped running?”

He moves past Fjord into the apartment, peering around with a faintly suspicious look like he’s expecting to find someone else inside.

“I’m still running,” Fjord says defensively, shutting the door and following him into the living room. “I had a weird dream so I ran early and wanted to get more sleep.” He stifles another yawn, scratching absently at the back of his neck.

“Well get dressed,” Vandren says, clapping him on the back. “We’re getting breakfast. Not that you need it,” he adds, prodding disapprovingly at the softness around Fjord’s waist that’s been growing since he’s stopped training and dieting.

“It’s not like I can train right now,” Fjord says defensively, drawing back and wrapping his arms protectively over his stomach. 

“That shoulder doesn’t stop you from doing sit-ups,” Vandren counters sternly. “Or make you drink beer,” he adds, gesturing to the empty beer bottles poking out of the trashcan from the last time Beau and Molly had stopped by.

Fjord opens his mouth angrily to argue but decides against it, instead grumbling moodily as he heads back to his bedroom to change and down one of his pain pills before rejoining Vandren in the living room. He shrugs on a jacket and follows him out into the hall and down the stairs into the dreary morning, the air just as cold as it had been when he’d gone running several hours ago. The sky is a flat blue-grey and he can just make out the distant low-hanging clouds on the horizon promising rain later that day. 

They pile into Vandren’s truck, Fjord wrinkling his nose at the stench of cigarettes soaked into the fabric of the seats and carpet. He doesn’t miss being around the smell every day when Vandren used to drive him to and from practice. The radio crackles quietly on the same country music station Vandren has listened to as long as Fjord has known him, though he doesn’t pay much attention to it on the short drive to the diner two miles from Fjord’s apartment. 

They’ve been here together plenty of times. When Fjord was younger Vandren used to bring him here to treat him to ice cream when he won a competition before dropping him back off at the group home or whatever foster home he was staying in at the time. They’re seated at one of the worn booths by the window, Vandren immediately ordering them each coffee from the young waitress passing by with a tray of food for another table.

“So,” he says, folding his arms on the table and giving Fjord a scrutinizing look, “how’s that shoulder doing?”

“Better,” Fjord says with a nod. “A lot better.”

“That doctor say when you can start swimming again?” 

Fjord waits as the waitress returns with their coffees, watching Vandren dump half the little jug of cream into each other their mugs, stirring his own absently.

“He said I’d probably be okay to start now as long as I don’t do anything too intense.” He pauses, smiling at the thought of Caduceus as he watches his coffee swirl around the chipped mug. “Thought I might take him next weekend.”

“Take  _ him _ ?” Vandren says, frowning in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, um,” Fjord clears his throat, heat climbing up his neck as he realizes what he’d said, “he’s just never learned so I thought I might… show him.”

Vandren gives him a suspicious look. “You friends with this guy now?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Fjord says, guarded. “He’s nice.”

Vandren scoffs quietly and takes a large gulp of his coffee.

“If you’re getting back in the water again, you can’t have any more distractions, you know that,” he says seriously. “You need to focus on that shoulder and working this off.” He reaches across the table to pinch the slight amount of fat gathering under Fjord’s bicep. 

“I will, okay?” Fjord says, pulling his arm away. “And I  _ am _ focused. I want to get back in the water again, you know that.”

“Next week,” Vandren says, pointing at him sternly. “I want you at the pool Tuesday morning to start again. Even if it’s just warm-ups. You need to start getting your muscle back.”

“Alright,” Fjord sighs, nodding. 

“And stop eating junk,” Vandren adds warningly. “Just because you’re not competing doesn’t mean you can let yourself eat and drink whatever you want.”

“Yes, sir,” Fjord grumbles.

The waitress returns and he dutifully orders egg whites and dry toast while Vandren gets his usual omelet and side of bacon. He prods dejectedly at the white lumps of egg, not looking forward to going back to the strict diet Vandren has had him on for years. He knows he needs to, though, has already started to notice his clothes fitting more snugly around the middle. Started dressing in bulkier sweaters to hide the extra weight on his stomach.

“How’d you find that physical therapist anyway?” Vandren says when they’re halfway through their meal. “That doctor at the hospital recommend him?”

“Beau recommended him,” Fjord replies. “Helped with her ACL last year.”

Vandren grunts, frowning as he chews. 

“He looks like a damn hippie on his website,” he says after he swallows. 

“He’s a little… eccentric,” Fjord says with a shrug. “But he’s good. I trust him.”

Vandren hums, still not looking convinced but not arguing further.

“You, um, you doing alright?” he says gruffly. 

Fjord shrugs. “Bored,” he says, “but I’m okay. Finding ways to keep busy.” He doesn’t think it’s a good idea to tell Vandren just how much of his time he spends talking to Caduceus.

“Talked to Avantika the other day,” Vandren says casually, though Fjord can sense him watching him as he stills. “She’s planning on joining the French national team for the Olympics.”

“Yeah?” Fjord says, unable to keep the bitter anger out of his voice. “Don’t they do drug tests? How’s she planning on getting past that?”

“She says she’s clean,” Vandren says with a shrug. 

Fjord scoffs in disbelief. “Until she finds someone else to rob blind to pay for it,” he mutters, stabbing at the last bit of egg on his plate with a scowl.

“Fjord—“

“I don’t want to talk about Avantika,” Fjord interrupts him. “I don’t care what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with, as long as it’s far away from me.”

Vandren sighs but nods and returns to his own food. He drives Fjord back to his apartment when they’re finished, clapping him firmly on his uninjured shoulder in his usual display of attempted affection.

“Tuesday morning, seven o’clock sharp,” he says firmly when Fjord opens the door and climbs out onto the sidewalk.

Fjord waves in acknowledgment before closing the door and heading towards his apartment building. He pulls out his phone to check it, smiling at the message from Caduceus from twenty minutes before.

** _Caduceus: _ ** _ I hope you’re feeling better and were able to get some sleep. It’s supposed to rain today so don’t forget your umbrella! _

There’s a rain cloud emoji at the end of his message and Fjord feels a familiar swoop and swell of affection. He responds with an umbrella and has to stop himself from adding a heart alongside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished chapter 10 and officially broke 40k on this oh boy
> 
> thank you as always for your comments! they are the biggest motivator :)


	9. Chapter 9

It rains Friday as expected. Fat, cold drops pattering against the windows all the way through the evening and straight into the night. But by the time Fjord wakes up Saturday to run, the sky is clear and pale blue again, the only evidence of the rain the deep puddles along the road and damp concrete of the sidewalk. He runs his usual route before meeting with Beau at the gym after reluctantly asking the evening before if he could join her in her morning workout. She’d readily agreed when he’d explained Vandren’s scolding about his diet and weight gain. 

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little wary about her enthusiasm knowing how intense her workouts used to be when they did them together in college. His bigger concern, though, was the possibility of her bringing up Caduceus. He’d answered her and Molly’s insistent questions about their not-date with brief responses that Caduceus didn’t return his feelings with little additional explanation despite their harrying all week.

Sure enough, he’s barely taken his position behind the punching bag to steady it for her with his good shoulder than she’s giving him a shrewd look over the top of the black bag.

“So when are you going to tell me what the hell happened with Caduceus last week?” she says as she finishes wrapping her hands, flexing her fingers and bouncing lightly back and forth on her feet.

Fjord sighs. “I already told you, he doesn’t feel the same. That’s all there is to it.”

She arches one eyebrow dubiously, raising her fists and punching the bag swiftly a few times.

“He say that?” she says.

Fjord waits for her fists to impact the bag again before responding, “Maybe not in so many words but he made it clear.”

She scoffs, the loud smack of her punches on the bag ringing out in quick succession before she jukes to the right and Fjord has to step to the side to mirror her.

“And you told him how you feel?” she says, eyes fixed on the bag and brow furrowed in concentration.

“I mean, not exactly, but—” 

He starts as she steps back and swings her leg around suddenly, her foot connecting with the bag so close to his face he can see the tread on her sneakers. She smirks and he scowls and pushes her foot away.

“_But_,” he repeats, “I made my intentions clear, okay?”

“_Made your intentions clear_?” she echoes, snickering. “Did you ask his parents first to make sure it was okay with them?”

Fjord rolls his eyes, planting his feet and digging his shoulder into the bag when she lands several rapid blows. 

“You’re meeting up with him later, yeah?” she says, pausing to bounce on the balls of her feet again. 

“Mm, he’s taking me somewhere,” Fjord replies. “Not sure where.”

“Sounds an awful lot like a date to me.”

“It’s not a date,” Fjord insists. “Look, I like him and I like being friends with him. At this point I’m just grateful things aren’t weird after I tried to kiss him.”

“You tried to _ kiss him_?” Beau says incredulously, falling back on her heels.

Warmth prickles across his cheeks and he clears his throat, avoiding her eye. “I mean, I… leaned in, you know? He just… didn’t lean back,” he finished dejectedly.

Beau gives him a long, scrutinizing look. She sighs and punches his left shoulder good-naturedly. “Sorry, dude,” she says with a rare note of sincerity. “That sucks.”

Fjord shrugs. “Might be for the best,” he says, “he’s probably not allowed to date patients anyway.”

Beau hums thoughtfully, frowning.

“You know Molly’s not going to drop this, right?” she says after a few seconds of silence. “Now that _ he’s _ dating, he thinks everyone has to. I think he’s trying to get me and Yasha together even. I mean, not that I’m _opposed_ but, you know… the whole dead wife thing is a lot. What? It is,” she adds defensively when Fjord gives her a look of mortified disbelief.

“I can handle Molly,” he says. “I guess I’m just… I dunno. I want to spend time with him and he hasn’t acted like it’s weird for him but it kind of hurts. I’m not bitter or anything. But it’s not like I can just turn those feelings off.”

“It’ll take time,” Beau says with a sympathetic nod. “And who knows, maybe he’ll end up feeling the same. Not everyone falls at the same speed.”

“You know, you give pretty good advice when you’re not being an ass about it,” Fjord says, smirking. He doubles over with a wheezing cough when she punches him in the gut.

When she’s finished thoroughly pummeling the punching bag twenty minutes later, she helps Fjord through a series of exercises that leave his stomach and back aching by the time they’re done. He grimaces at her promise to use the rowing machine once his shoulder is better healed. They get lunch together once they’ve both showered—Fjord prodding forlornly at his wilted salad while Beau tears hungrily into her own food across from him—bidding each other goodbye at the bus stop.

“Good luck,” she grins when the bus pulls to the corner. She smacks him lightly on the side and he winces at the soreness in his muscles, scowling at her chuckling as he climbs onto the bus and takes one of the seats near the back. 

He gets a message from Caduceus when he’s a stop away from where they’re supposed to meet telling him he’s just arrived. Fjord peers out the window as they approach the stop a few minutes later, heart flipping happily at the sight of him watching the doors expectantly as the bus pulls up, dressed in a patterned sweater that hangs loose on his lanky frame and a knit hat, his long hair pulled in a braid down his back. He looks undeniably _ cozy _ and Fjord has the sudden urge to know how it would feel to hug him.

Caduceus’ face brightens when he steps off the bus, his expression turning concerned at how stiffly he’s carrying himself as he approaches.

“Are you okay?” he says worriedly.

“Yeah,” Fjord replies even as he grimaces at the soreness in his back. “Beau and I worked out this morning. Vandren wants me to start swimming again and got upset about all the weight I gained so…” he trails off with a shrug and roll of his eyes.

He sees Caduceus’ eyes flick down at this, his frown deepening slightly.

“I think you look fine,” he says.

Fjord huffs with a self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks,” he mutters, willing himself not to flush. “He’s right, though. I’ve been way too careless with my diet. Swimmers aren’t supposed to have love handles.”

Caduceus purses his lips in what Fjord thinks is disapproval, brow furrowed like he’s trying to think of a response, and Fjord hurries to change the subject.

“Where are we going exactly?” he says, glancing around the unfamiliar street corner.

Caduceus’ expression shifts to one of faint confusion before he smiles cryptically.

“You’ll see,” he says, turning and setting off down the sidewalk at an easy pace. 

Fjord trails after him, perplexed.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Caduceus says, glancing at Fjord’s still stiff posture. “We’re going to be walking a lot.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fjord insists. “Just… getting back into shape. It’s my own fault letting myself go like this.” 

Caduceus hums with another look of disapproval or possibly disagreement. Fjord’s not sure which it is, though he’s also not sure how to feel about the fact that Caduceus apparently thinks his body “look fine” the way it is. He glances sideways at him as they walk, suddenly glad Caduceus has his hands in his pockets when the urge to hold them in his own hits him. It takes him aback how natural the urge feels, like he might do it automatically if Caduceus’ hand was there to take.

They’ve only been walking for a few minutes, absently chatting between comfortable silences, when they reach the end of the block and Fjord stops, blinking in surprise at the building across the street from them. There’s no sign on this side of it but the large motif of penguins along the otherwise blank stretch of wall is enough to tell him what it is.

“The aquarium?” he says, giving Caduceus a bewildered look.

“Yeah,” Caduceus says, looking vaguely sheepish. “I though, you know… water. I’m sure you’ve been here a million times—“

“I’ve never been here,” Fjord says quietly. It hadn’t opened until he was in high school and while there had been a class trip there, the foster family he’d been with at the time hadn’t been able to afford to send him. He remembers enviously listening to his classmates talking about the trip the following day while he’d spent it in near empty classes before swimming until he was ready to collapse in preparation for an upcoming tournament. 

He doesn’t tell Caduceus any of this, of course, merely smiles weakly in response to the relieved grin he gives him.

“I’ve never been here either,” he tells Fjord as they head across the street towards the entrance. “I have an ex-patient who works here that I’m still friends with and they were talking about it and I just thought you might enjoy it.”

Fjord simply nods mutely. He feels faintly dizzy at the thought of Caduceus picking this specifically for him. It feels very much like a date. So much so that he’s half expecting Caduceus to take his hand when they walk through the front entrance after Caduceus buys both their tickets despite his protests.

Caduceus pulls out the map he’d gotten from the ticketing booth and examines it thoughtfully while Fjord stares around the wide entrance. After a minute or two of deliberating, Caduceus leads him off to a winding hall full of tanks of brightly colored tropical fish and luminous jellyfish. 

They spend almost two hours wandering around the various exhibits. Fjord watches with poorly suppressed fondness as Caduceus peers into each of the tanks with genuine fascination, his face lit blue by the lights shining through the water. He squints at the labels next to the tanks, his mouth moving silently as he reads them like he’s working his way through the words, occasionally pointing out interesting facts about the fish behind the glass. When they reach the large exhibit containing several playfully romping otters, Caduceus crouches next to the wall off glass and presses his hand to the tank, smiling when one of the otters approaches through the water and blinks its dark eyes at him.

“Doing okay in there?” Caduceus says. “You guys taken care of alright?”

The otter merely tilts its head curiously before swimming back to the others. Caduceus shrugs in response to Fjord’s perplexed look as he stands.

“Seem to be happy enough,” he says. He pulls the map out of his pocket and considers it for a few seconds. “There’s one exhibit we haven’t seen yet. Doing okay?” 

Fjord nods and follows after him back across the main entry to a short hall with a sign over it proclaiming the name of the exhibit. He’s taken aback when the hall opens into a tunnel, the walls and curved ceiling of which are clear glass open to a massive tank that fully encompasses the long hall ahead of them. The floor is a wash of rippling blue light, shifting and dancing as fish dart overhead and around them.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Caduceus murmurs, nudging Fjord with his elbow and smiling at his awestruck expression. “Just wait.”

They step onto the moving walkway that carries them down the hall, Fjord turning on the spot to try and take in the hundreds of colorful fish. The water around them seems to stretch on forever, vividly blue. He thinks he could lay on the floor and spend hours staring into it, the dull ache of longing burning in his stomach at the thought.

He follows Caduceus reluctantly out of the tunnel into another hallway, dimly lit with lights along the floor and curving up ahead into what looks to be another room, the same blue glow visible as they round the corner. Fjord’s breath catches in his throat as he steps into the room ahead of Caduceus, barely registering him almost bumping into him as he stops short.

The wall opposite him is solid glass covering almost the entire length of the room and rising at least thirty feet up to the ceiling. The room is dark apart from the blue glow of the water, schools of fish and rays and even the huge shape of a whale shark swimming lazily by across the tank. 

“I know it’s not the ocean,” Caduceus says quietly. “But I thought… maybe a temporary substitute.”

It’s only then Fjord realizes that Caduceus’ hand is resting lightly on his shoulder. He covers it with his own hand, squeezing his fingers.

“Caduceus, this is—how can I—thank you,” he finally manages to get out. 

“I think the look on your face is thanks enough,” Caduceus says with a smile that warms Fjord from the inside out. He pats Fjord on the shoulder before moving his hand to his back to push him gently forward. 

Fjord moves across the room to sit on the curving step set a few feet back from the glass, the space directly in front of the tank occupied by eager children with their faces and hands pressed against the glass, pointing excitedly at passing fish and talking in hushed voices. The room is otherwise dark and quiet apart from the soft sound of background instrumental music playing through the speakers.

Caduceus sits next to him after a few seconds and Fjord glances over to see the familiar placid smile on his face as he watches the movement of one of the whale sharks across the tank.

“This is nice,” he says quietly. “Peaceful. Probably be a good place to meditate,” he adds thoughtfully.

“I’d like to try it,” Fjord says. Caduceus turns to give him a look of surprise and he hurries to continue, “maybe not with all the religion… stuff. But, you said it could help me clear my head. I thought it couldn’t hurt, you know?”

Caduceus nods. “Whatever works for you,” he says. “You don’t have to be religious to do it.”

“So, um… what do I do exactly?” Fjord says, feeling silly for even asking. “Just… close my eyes and try not to think?”

Caduceus chuckles quietly, though there’s no cruelty behind the sound, more a fondness that makes Fjord thankful for the darkness to hide his flush.

“Something like that,” Caduceus says. “I usually try to slow my breathing and just… listen. Pick out all the different sounds around me and name them. Think about how they fall together. I usually find myself thinking too much when I try not to think at all.”

Fjord hums, nodding slowly as he digests his words. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting his mind wander to the low hum of talk, the sound of quiet footsteps on the carpeted floor around him, the steady noise of his own breathing. Of Caduceus’ breathing. He finds the tension easing out of his muscles as he focuses on rhythmic, barely audible inhale-exhale next to him. He wants to lean into the sound. Lean into Caduceus. To press his head to his chest and feel his ribs expand and listen to the thump of his heart. He knows it’s an innocent enough desire, but he still feels dizzy with the thought of it.

He breathes in a deep lungful of air and lets the tranquility of it all wash over him, imagining the rush and crash of waves on the beach and how calm the sound used to make him feel. Thinks of the way his limbs cut smoothly through the water when he swims and how, even with the thrill of adrenaline and pound of blood in his ears, it’s still the most peaceful he’s ever felt. He still aches for it, but it’s more a dull longing now than a raw pain, the promise of returning weighted in the back of his mind.

He forces his heavy eyelids open, not sure exactly how long he’s been sitting there. He doesn’t feel sleepy, though he knows if he were to lie down it would take him seconds to drift off as relaxed as he feels. Caduceus seems to pick up on him coming back to himself, looking over at him with a smile.

“Feel any better?” he says. His knees are tucked up to his chest so he can fold his arms across them and his chin resting on his forearm. Fjord is struck again by the urge to hug him, kiss him, anything to lessen the sudden ache in his chest to be closer to him that feels like a physical wound.

“Yeah, actually,” he says. It’s not a lie, he still feels incredibly relaxed despite the dull throb of heartache. 

Caduceus gives him a wide, pleased smile before turning back to the fish in the tank again. They spend a few more minutes watching them before a sudden idea strikes Fjord.

“Are you free the rest of the day?” he says.

Caduceus gives him a confused look but nods. “Yeah, I cleared it for this. Why?”

“Do you want to come with me?” Fjord says, “To the pool? I feel like I need to get in the water now and you _ did _say you would.”

“I did…” Caduceus says, sounding like he’s half regretting the promise now. “I don’t have anything to swim in.”

“We’ll swing by my place,” Fjord says, already halfway to his feet as the idea impulsively takes root in his brain. “I have an extra pair that will fit you. You’re tall but you’re not exactly big.” He gestures at Caduceus’ narrow hips.

“That’s fair,” Caduceus sighs. “You look like you’re not going to take no for an answer so, sure, why not?”

Fjord suppresses a grin, feeling a sudden flood of excitement at the thought of getting back in the water and of having Caduceus, so pivotal in his ability to do so, with him. He resists the urge to tug him out of the aquarium by his hand, instead forcing himself to walk at a measured pace back to the bus stop. They talk idly about the aquarium and nothing in particular on the ride back to Fjord’s apartment.

There’s a temporary jolt of nerves in Fjord’s stomach as he unlocks the door to his apartment and realizes this is the first time Caduceus has been here. He hasn’t even had a chance to clean, though luckily he’s never been too horribly messy and the worst offense is his empty mug from his morning coffee left on the side table in the living room.

“Just, er, make yourself comfortable,” Fjord says awkwardly as Caduceus follows him inside and peers around curiously. “I’ll be right back.”

He hurries to the bedroom and roots through his closet for the duffel he’d been using before his injury. He checks to make sure there’s a pair of trunks still in it before going to his dresser to dig out a pair of regular trunks for Caduceus that he usually used for the beach, loose and dark blue unlike the ones he usually wears, which cling tight to his skin.

He shoves them into the bag before returning to the living room where he sees Caduceus perusing the scant bookshelf to the side of the television.

“Ready?” he says, patting the duffel bag when Caduceus turns back to him.

“You should get some plants in here,” Caduceus says, gesturing around the sparsely decorated room. “Would really brighten the place up.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Fjord says. He holds the door open for Caduceus, following him out into the hall and back down the stairs.

“I have a few I think would work for you,” Caduceus says with a thoughtful look. “I’ll bring one Monday you can try. Something that doesn’t take a lot of work.”

“You have that little faith in me?” Fjord says, chuckling.

Caduceus hums in consideration and Fjord sees the corners of his lips twitch upward. “I haven’t forgotten how stubborn you are to listen to me.”

Fjord makes a mock pained noise and lays one hand on his chest.

“I am a changed man, Caduceus,” he says. “And I’m a little hurt you don’t believe in me.”

Caduceus’ smile widens and he laughs quietly under his breath. He glances at Fjord, who can’t help but grin back at him, his smile faltering as he realizes how much the conversation feels like flirting. Caduceus seems to catch it, too, the laughter fading quickly from his eyes and that vaguely guilty look crossing his face as he turns away from Fjord again to focus on the ground instead as they reach the bus stop.

The ride to the pool is quiet, the air so heavy with tension that Fjord feels it pressing down on his shoulders, his stomach leaping and sinking in anticipation and disappointment every time he glances at Caduceus and sees him looking back at him only for him to clear his throat and frown down at his hands again. He’s not sure the constant lurch and race of his heartbeat is healthy.

Caduceus leaves a full two feet of space between them when they get off the bus and head into the familiar building of the rec center, Fjord waving at the woman behind the front desk as he leads Caduceus back the hall towards the pool. 

“I’ve still got my locker,” Fjord says, digging the key for the padlock out of his bag to unlock the locker he’s used for years, feeling a faint tug of nostalgia at the mishmash of things still inside from the last time he was here. He pulls the spare set of trunks out and passes them to Caduceus. “There’s, um, there’s a changing area in the back.”

Caduceus nods and smiles stiffly, clutching the trunks and disappearing around the corner to the curtained stalls. Fjord pulls out his own trunks, waiting a few seconds to follow him, taking the furthest stall away from him and trying to block out the sound of rustling fabric indicating him undressing. He grimaces as he pulls his trunks on, prodding self-consciously at the fat around his middle. He’s half-considering pulling on his t-shirt to cover it when he hears the rasp of the curtain from Caduceus’ stall pull open.

“All done,” Caduceus says.

Fjord tries to ignore the sickening twist of doubt in his stomach and gathers his own clothes before stepping out next to him. 

“Ah,” he says as his eyes land on Caduceus, pressing his lips together to suppress a laugh. The trunks, which fall just above his own knees when he wears them, are nearly halfway up Caduceus’ thigh. He looks even taller than usual somehow, pale and skinny, his limbs long and almost ungainly as he shifts back and forth on his feet.

“They’re a little short,” he says, tugging on the bottom hem of the trunks and exposing another half inch of his narrow hips. He straightens up again and Fjord catches his eyes flick down his body before widening and darting away with that same guilty look that’s been driving Fjord silently up the wall for weeks.

“It’s probably pretty empty right now,” Fjord says in an attempt to clear the once again awkward air. “The pool, I mean,” he adds when Caduceus looks confused. “No field trips today and too late in the year for most people to want to swim.”

Caduceus follows him out of the locker room into the wide, echoing chamber containing the pool. There are only a few scattered people swimming, one woman doing laps and a few children splashing in the shallows while their father sits in one of the chairs to the side flipping through a book with a bored look.

“Just keep in mind if you open your eyes, the chlorine can sting a bit,” Fjord says as he walks to the edge of the pool and stares down into the water, clear and brilliantly blue, rippling slightly and reflected wavering lines of light back at him. He glances over to see Caduceus gazing down into the water next to him with a wary smile.

“Alright?” Fjord says, nudging him gently with his elbow.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m okay,” Caduceus replies.

“Scared?”

“Terrified,” Caduceus says with a wide smile.

“You smile when you’re scared,” Fjord observes with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Caduceus says, some of the tension easing from his face as his smile becomes more genuine, if still anxious. “Used to piss my sisters off like crazy.”

“You’ll be fine,” Fjord assures him, giving his arm a squeeze. “It’s not like the ocean. Nothing in there can eat us.”

“No, I know,” Caduceus says with a nod, peering out across the gently rippling surface. “Besides, if it could, I could swim away faster than you right now, anyway.”

Fjord blinks as his words sink in, staring at him incredulously before laughing, the sound echoing around the wide room. Caduceus grins faintly beside him.

“We’ll see about that,” Fjord says, knocking his shoulder against Caduceus’ arm lightly before lowering himself into the water smoothly with a pleased sigh. He treads water for a moment before swimming back to the edge of the pool where Caduceus is still standing looking uneasy.

“Come on,” Fjord says, resting his arms on the concrete lip of the pool. “I promise I won’t let you drown.”

Caduceus seems to relax a little at that, lowering himself to sit on the edge with his feet and ankles in the water before trying to mirror Fjord in sinking into the water, though he slips a little on the slick concrete and Fjord hurries to catch him around the waist before he drops below the surface completely.

“Hang on, I’ve got you,” Fjord says as he steadies him, Caduceus clinging to him reflexively, eyes wide and panicked. “Here, just kick your legs a little. There you go.”

Caduceus relaxes slightly as he seems to catch his bearings, kicking his legs to keep himself afloat and loosening the vice-like grip he has on Fjord’s arms, though he doesn’t release him completely.

“Alright?” Fjord says, still holding him gently by the waist.

Caduceus nods, huffing out a relieved sort of laugh.

“So what do you think?” Fjord says. 

“It’s a little cold,” Caduceus replies, his teeth chattering as he shivers. 

“That’s because you’ve got no body fat on you,” Fjord says, giving his waist a playful pinch. “You’ll get used to it in a minute or two. But otherwise?”

“It’s… nice,” Caduceus settles on with a smile, glancing around the pool. “Peaceful. Smells weird. I like it.”

“That’ll be the chlorine.” 

Caduceus makes a soft, contemplative sound, bobbing gently in the water as he continues kicking his legs steadily to keep himself afloat. He glances down at where his hands are still gripping Fjord’s biceps for balance and pulls them away like he’s been burned, flailing for a moment as he steadies himself. Fjord is sure he’s blushing, though it’s hard to tell with the fine layer of fuzz across his face.

“You can, um—I think I’ve got it,” Caduceus mumbles, avoiding Fjord’s eye as he lightly pushes his hands away so he releases his waist. Fjord tries to ignore how much it stings, clearing his throat loudly.

“Not sure how much you know about swimming,” he says, allowing an extra foot of space between them, though he stays close enough that he can grab Caduceus if he sees him struggling, “but I swim backstroke. Pretty self-explanatory.”

“So you just swim back and forth for training?” Caduceus says curiously, looking down the length of the pool.

“Sort of, but it would vary,” Fjord says, “I’d usually do a few warm-up lengths then some practice lengths in freestyle and backstroke. Then I’d do timed lengths and Vandren would make changes as we went depending how I was doing.”

“Sound like a lot of work,” Caduceus says with a grimace.

“It was,” Fjord agrees. He sighs. “I miss it.”

Caduceus gives his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze, catching himself against the edge of the pool when it makes him wobble.

“Want to give it a shot?” Fjord suggests, nodding down the long, roped off section of the pool. “I’ll help you.”

He watches Caduceus’ expression waver indecisively for a moment before he nods.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Should I just…?”

“Here,” Fjord guides him to lay on his back so he’s floating face-up in the water, his long hair fanning lazily out around his head, his expression tense and anxious.

“You’re alright,” Fjord says reassuringly, resting his hands under his back to help keep him steady. He eyes his long, lanky frame. “You know, as tall as you are, you would have made a good swimmer.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Caduceus says. “Maybe we start with making sure I don’t drown.”

“I won’t let you drown,” Fjord says with a roll of his eyes. “I _ am _ CPR certified so I can give you mouth to mouth if it comes to that.” He realizes what he’s said just as he’s finished saying it, watching the weak smile that’s more of a grimace pass over Caduceus’ face. It makes him feel faintly ill.

“Right,” he says hastily. “So you just want to, um, kick your legs and stretch your arm back like this.”

He walks him through the basics of a backstroke, pleased to some of the tension ease out his muscles as Fjord helps him swim the length of the pool and he seems to realize he’s not going to sink below the surface of the water. He straightens up, gripping the edge of the pool and shaking his wet hair back as they reach the far side.

“See?” Fjord says proudly. “Not so bad, is it? Want to go down? Under the water?”

Caduceus stares down into the water for a few seconds, looking uneasy.

“You don’t have to,” Fjord says, “but I’ll be right there. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Caduceus looks up at him and Fjord has the familiar sensation that he’s looking right through him and into his head.

“Okay,” Caduceus says finally, nodding resolutely. 

“Deep breath,” Fjord says. “Don’t let it go all at once. Remember, if you open your eyes it might sting a little. Do you want to…?” He holds his hands out towards him and Caduceus looks at them with that same hesitance. 

He eventually nods though, placing his hands in Fjord’s, gripping them tightly when Fjord gives his fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Deep breath,” Fjord repeats, inhaling a lungful of air before dropping below the surface, feeling Caduceus sink with him. He blinks his eyes open and expels a rush of bubbles in a laugh at the sight of Caduceus with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his lips pressed together firmly and his cheeks puffed out. Fjord pulls one of his hands free and rests it lightly on Caduceus’ cheek just as he begins turning his head blindly towards his now empty fingers with a panicked look.

Caduceus’ eyes open at last, darting around the water before landing on Fjord, who smiles reassuringly. Caduceus glances around again, slower this time as he takes in the rippling light, a few bubbles escaping his lips as he does. 

Fjord can’t stop himself from staring at him, watching the way the light dances across his face and the billowing cloud of his long hair. His chest feels painfully heavy even beyond the growing burn in his lungs as his oxygen runs out. His hand is still resting on Caduceus’ cheek and he slides his thumb across his cheekbone almost automatically. Caduceus looks back at him and Fjord forces a bright smile, pulling his hand away to gesture around them, relieved when Caduceus beams back at him. He points upward and Fjord nods, kicking back towards the surface and tugging Caduceus up with him by the hand.

They both break the surface in a rush of air, Caduceus coughing a little as he wipes water from his eyes and pushes his wet hair off his face with his free hand.

“So what did you think?” Fjord says.

“I like it,” Caduceus says with a grin, “Really quiet.”

“Yeah,” Fjord says wistfully, “Some days I would just come down here and see how long I could stay under just for the silence. Clear my head, you know?”

Caduceus hums, smiling and nodding. There’s still a few drops of water clinging to his long eyelashes and sliding down his face and Fjord finds his eyes drawn to his lips, wet and enticing. He wants to kiss him so badly he feels like he can’t catch his breath thinking about it. He forces his gaze back to Caduceus’ eyes.

“Caduceus?” 

Caduceus raises his eyebrows in question.

“Would you, um,” he swallows when his voice comes out unsteady. “Next week Molly is having a Christmas party. Well, a holiday party, I guess, no one going is really religious but that’s not the point. Would you… would you like to come with me? Just, you know, as friends,” he adds hastily. “Molly’s going to be busy with his new boyfriend and Beau usually ends up hitting on any woman who will put up with her and I just thought maybe you might… want to come.”

At first he’s sure he’s going to say no, that the look of reluctance will appear again and the air will turn awkward between them as it has so many times today. But instead, he gives Fjord a considering look, shrewd and indecipherable.

“I would,” he says quietly, nodding. “That… that sounds like fun.”

He looks down as he seems to realize his hand is still clasped loosely in Fjord’s. He stares at them for a long moment before his eyes lift again to meet Fjord’s. He looks for all the world like he’s teetering on indecision, and Fjord waits, silently hoping, as he seems to be about to speak. But then his eyes drop and his face falls again into that mask of guilt and remorse as he pulls his hand away and swims to the edge of the pool to clamber out. 

“I’m going to go get changed, I think,” he says distantly.

Fjord watches him walk back towards the locker room, wringing water from his hair as he goes. He sighs, dragging his fingers through his own wet hair before climbing out after him, unable to stop the small swell of hope in his chest. Because, despite everything, he swears that for a split second he’d felt Caduceus’ hand tighten in his own before he’d let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for your wonderful comments! I might need to take a week off posting next week. I've been very busy and haven't had much of a chance to right and am in the middle of writing chapter 11 which doesn't leave me much of a buffer as I like to have and I know I'll continue to be pretty busy the next few weeks. I will try to post if I'm able but if I cannot it will definitely be posted the following week :)


	10. Chapter 10

It snows Monday morning. 

It’s barely a flurry but traffic is still backed up twice as long as normal, the residents of the city as unprepared as ever for the rare occurrence of snow. It leaves the air pleasantly crisp and cold for Fjord’s walk from the bus stop to Caduceus’ office, his breath rising in a cloud in front of him.

He sighs at the warmth of the interior when he enters the front room, Jester greeting him cheerfully as he unzips his coat.

“Hello, Fjord!” she says brightly. “Would you like a cookie?” She holds up a half-empty plate of heart-shaped cookies iced neatly with green and white icing.

“What—Valentine’s Day is a few months away,” he says, confused.

“They’re not for that,” Jester says, clucking her tongue. “They’re for Bodhi Day! Caduceus makes them for his patients every year.”

“Bodhi Day?” Fjord echoes, “What’s that?”

“It’s the day Buddha attained enlightenment.”

Fjord turns at the sound of Caduceus’ voice, his heart skipping automatically at the sight of him smiling softly from the doorway to the back room.

“Sorry,” Caduceus says as he approaches them, “I heard your voice.” 

“So it’s a religious thing?” Fjord says, watching Caduceus take one of the cookies for himself and break it in half, handing the other half to Jester.

“Mm,” Caduceus hums, nodding. “He was sitting under the Bodhi Tree when it happened and it is has heart-shaped leaves… I’m sure you can figure out the rest.” He smiles, taking a bite of the cookie. “We made them every year growing up so I just kind of carried on the tradition. Here.” He takes another of the cookies and holds it out to Fjord, setting the plate back on the desk.

“I don’t know,” he says warily, thinking of Vandren’s stern disapproval if he took it. “I probably shouldn’t. Diet and all.”

“I don’t think a cookie is going to ruin it,” Caduceus says, chuckling. “Besides, you look great.”

“Alright,” Fjord relents, accepting the cookie from him and taking a bite, Caduceus’ smile widening at the appreciative noise he makes. 

He chews in silence for a few seconds before realizing that Jester is still sitting at the desk, watching them raptly, her chin propped on her fists. She gives him a wide, sly smile and he feels heat prickle across his face.

“Uh, we should probably…” he gestures to the open door of Caduceus’ office, clearing his throat quietly.

“Oh, right,” Caduceus says, looking faintly flustered as he leads Fjord back.

“Have fun,” Jester sings in a voice dripping with suggestion. Fjord glances back as he’s pulling the door shut to see her waggle her eyebrows at him.

There’s an embarrassed air to the room for the first few minutes as Caduceus asks the usual questions about how he’s feeling—which Fjord sees as almost unnecessary at this point with how much they talk outside of their appointments—Caduceus avoiding his eye and looking slightly flushed. He smiles at Fjord when he sets his file down, though, looking relaxed again.

“I’m going to have you do some weight exercises today,” he says, nodding to the small row of weights along the shelf. “You’re pretty far along in the healing process so we want to start strengthening the muscle again, work towards getting you back where you were. There’s still a ways to go and we’ve got a few weeks left but you’re doing an excellent job, Fjord.”

He lays his hand on Fjord’s shoulder and Fjord feels a swell of accomplishment in his chest alongside the familiar ache of longing.

“Thank you,” he says, “I… I wouldn’t have gotten here without you.”

“I think you would have gotten there eventually,” Caduceus says, smiling, “just might have taken a little longer.”

Fjord huffs out a laugh. 

Caduceus claps him gently on the shoulder. “Come on,” he says, gesturing to the weights, “we’ll start small.”

There’s no lingering awkwardness for the remainder of the appointment, though Fjord can’t stop the giddy way his stomach flips every time Caduceus touches his arm or back to adjust the position of his shoulder. At one point, Caduceus is standing at his side observing him as he curls one of the small weights upward. He pretends to struggle, screwing up his face and letting the muscles in his arm bulge, grinning when Caduceus laughs. He rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head, but Fjord doesn’t miss the way his gaze lingers on his bicep. He may unnecessarily flex the rest of the appointment just to watch the way Caduceus’ eyes drop briefly to his arms and his cheeks flush pink when Fjord catches him staring once or twice. He tries not to puff out his chest or posture too much, but he can’t stop the surge of self-confidence and hope seeing his reaction.

“You’re going to want to introduce weights into your daily exercises,” Caduceus says when the hour is almost up. Fjord swears he’s sees a faint blush on his cheeks though it’s hard to tell with the short, fine fur covering his face. “I have a new schedule for you to follow for these last few weeks, though I do recommend continuing after our appointments end and to add additional weight every week or two.”

He pulls a few papers from Fjord’s folded and holds them out to him as he finishes tugging his sweater back over his undershirt.

“Thanks,” Fjord says, flicking absently through the pages. “I’ll start these tonight. Vandren is starting me up tomorrow so this will help me get back up to speed.”

“Just make sure you take it easy,” Caduceus says, laying one hand gently on Fjord’s shoulder. “Don’t be too rough and undo all the work you’ve done.”

“I won’t, don’t worry,” Fjord replies with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to see what you’d do to me if I did.”

“You probably wouldn’t,” Caduceus muses, the faintest tinge of warning to his voice. 

“Oh!” he continues, clapping his hands together. “I almost forget.” He moves to his desk and picks up one of the pots, pale pink and containing a squat plant with dark green, heart-shaped leaves.

“Philodendron,” Caduceus says, smiling as he holds it out to him, “very low maintenance. It likes indirect sunlight so it would do well on your bookshelf. And just water it when the soil starts to dry out.”

“Oh, right, thanks,” Fjord says, tucking the small pot carefully in the crook of his arm. “I’ll try not to kill it.”

Caduceus laughs and pats him on the forearm. “You would really have to work to kill it,” he says. “Oh, by the way, should I bring anything with me Saturday? A gift or food or something?”

“Hm? Oh, no,” Fjord says, shaking his head, “I mean, Molly would probably turn down gifts. As up his own ass he is sometimes, he doesn’t really like people bringing gifts. And there’ll be food and wine. Do you… drink?”

“Not really,” Caduceus says, wrinkling his nose. “I had whiskey once but it did not end very well.”

“Oh, really?” Fjord chuckles. “Now I’m curious.”

“It’s nothing interesting,” Caduceus says with a grimace. “Got sick and spent the whole next day sleeping off a hangover. Plus, it tastes _ awful. _”

“Well, it’s not required for you to drink,” Fjord says, grinning, “And you don’t have to bring anything but yourself.”

Caduceus gives him a broad, warm smile and Fjord has to duck his head and pretend to fiddle with the plant to keep the giddy grin off his own face.

As Caduceus’ apartment complex is only a fifteen minute walk to Molly’s own apartment, Fjord rides the bus to the stop near Caduceus’ Saturday evening feeling unavoidably anxious as he steps onto the sidewalk to see Caduceus waiting in a similarly cozy-looking sweater as the one he’d worn to the aquarium, though this one is green and red with a pattern of white snowflakes and reindeer on it. 

“Cute,” Fjord says as he approaches him, nodding at his sweater.

Caduceus glances down and grins.

“Figured it would be appropriate,” he says. He’s wearing a similarly patterned, fur-lined hat with ear flaps that hang down to his jaw, the flushed tips of his ears poking out from he bottom. He looks painfully endearing.

“You didn’t buy that for this, did you?” Fjord says, gesturing to the sweater again as they set off down the sidewalk together. “I’m not sure anyone else will be wearing one.”

“Nah, I already owned this,” Caduceus says. 

"Of course you did," Fjord says, shaking his head with a quiet laugh. “Do you celebrate Christmas?” he adds, frowning.

“Mm, a lot of Buddhists do,” Caduceus says with a nod. “We don’t see Jesus the same way Christians do, but his teachings are very in keeping with Buddhist beliefs and it’s fairly close to Bodhi Day. Plus it’s just a fun holiday to celebrate,” he adds with a grin. "Which reminds me, I'd like to get you something if that's not too strange. What do you want for Christmas?"

He looks down at Fjord with a soft smile and Fjord's brain unhelpfully supplies, "_you_".

"Oh, no, don't," he says instead. "I don't—you've done enough, I think. If anything, I should be getting you something."

"I wouldn't say no to a new kettle," Caduceus muses thoughtfully. He blinks like he's pulling himself out of his thoughts and turns to Fjord again. "How's your shoulder, by the way? Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard swimming?"

"It's a little sore," Fjord admits, rolling his shoulder. "But I'm... managing," he chooses the word carefully, stomach rolling guiltily at the thought of the pain medication he's been taking before he meets Vandren at the pool to try and temper the lingering pain in his shoulder.

"Just... be careful," Caduceus says quietly.

Fjord nods, smiling reassuringly. Caduceus’ gloved hand is hanging at his side only a few inches from his own hand, and he has the familiar overwhelming urge again to take it in his own. He tucks his hands in the pockets of his coat to keep from doing so.

“We could have taken my car,” Caduceus says.

“Hm?”

“If you’re cold,” Caduceus says, nodding to where Fjord has stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We could have driven.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Fjord says evasively.

“Would you like my gloves?” Caduceus says, already beginning to pull one off.

“Really, I’m okay,” Fjord says, laying his hand on Caduceus’ wrist to stop him. The small stretch of exposed skin between the hem of his coat and his glove is warm and velvet-soft and his thumb rubs along the underside of Caduceus’ wrist almost automatically.

He pulls back quickly when he realizes what he’s doing, slipping his hands back in his pockets and barely hearing Caduceus’ murmured apology over the sound of his own heart in his throat. 

“It’s just a right up here,” he mutters, nodding at the upcoming intersection.

They walk the rest of the way to Molly’s apartment in near silence, the quickly growing familiar tension of _ almost _ something hanging between them. They sign in at the front desk in the small lobby and take the elevator up to the fifth floor where Fjord leads Caduceus to the end of the hall, the sound of cheerful music growing increasingly loud as the approach Molly’s door.

“Hang on,” Fjord says, gripping Caduceus’ arm by the elbow when he raises a hand to knock.

Caduceus gives him a curious look.

“Just… just remember that Molly can be a little over the top sometimes, yeah?” Fjord says carefully, “don’t listen to anything he says. He likes to… be involved in things he shouldn’t.”

Caduceus looks politely befuddled and Fjord forces down a frustrated noise. He has no idea how to tell Caduceus that Molly will likely be trying to play matchmaker without _ actually _telling him that.

“It’s nothing,” Fjord says, waving his hand dismissively, “forget I said anything.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says, still sounding confused. 

Fjord gives him a reassuring smile and knocks twice on the door before letting himself in, the music suddenly louder as the door swings inward and they step into the warmly lit entry. 

They’re immediately greeted by a large, plush pine tree situated a few feet inside the door, decorated garishly with a dozen strings of lights and an explosion of silver tinsel. There’s garland and strings of white Christmas lights draped and wound around every surface.

“He must like to decorate,” Caduceus says, peering around the entry looking impressed.

“This is actually pretty conservative for him,” Fjord says as he leads Caduceus past the tree and into the living room where the music is loudest, bright and festive. “He usually uses colored lights and has figures and everything. I imagine he’s trying to be classier to impress his new boyfriend.”

Caduceus laughs quietly at this, slipping his hat off and smoothing down his ruffled hair.

“Fjord!”

Fjord glances up to see Molly hailing him from across the room, waving and grinning as he makes his way towards them, his smile turning mischievous as his eyes land on Caduceus.

“Hey, Molly,” Fjord says as Molly reaches them.

“You must be Caduceus!” Molly all but shoves past Fjord, grinning toothily as he approaches Caduceus, who looks taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Fjord has told us so much about you! Never shuts up about you, really.”

Fjord resists the urge to stomp on his foot to shut him up, knowing that Caduceus would see it, and instead smiles stiffly in response to Caduceus’ curious look. He doesn’t get a chance to ask about it though as Molly continues talking.

“Love the sweater. Boy, you’re tall, huh?” he says, taking Caduceus by his elbows and eyeing him up and down. The top of his horns barely come up to Caduceus’ collarbone. He helps Caduceus’ out of his coat, tossing it at Fjord without a second glance, Fjord catching it with a scowl.

“Fjord tells me you’re a _ Buddhist_,” Molly says, eyes alight with interest. “You know, I’m fairly spiritual myself, what’s your sun sign, dear? Oh, and you must let me give you a reading some time, I bet you’d pull some _ fascinating _ cards.”

“A… reading?” Caduceus says, looking torn between amusement, confusion, and being vaguely overwhelmed. 

“Tarot!” Molly says excitedly. He slings his arm around Caduceus and flicks his wrist deftly, holding up a single tarot card between his fingers. “Ooo, the Ace of Cups,” he says conspiratorially. “_Very _ interesting.”

“What’s that mean?” Caduceus says, glancing between Molly and Fjord, looking genuinely curious. 

“New beginnings,” Molly says eagerly, tucking the card back in his coat, “Letting go of the past and opening yourself up to new opportunities. It’s often interpreted as a sign of new romance.” He grins slyly and Fjord suppresses a heavy sigh with difficulty.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Molly says, seemingly producing one from mid-air and holding it towards Caduceus, the deep red liquid sloshing around the cup. 

“I don’t really drink,” Caduceus says.

“Oh, come on,” Molly says, rolling his eyes and pressing the glass into his hand. “This is a celebration and alcohol makes those much more fun. One glass won’t hurt. It’s _ very _good wine.”

“Molly, he doesn’t want—”

“Well, I guess one glass couldn’t hurt,” Caduceus relents, shrugging. He takes a sip of the wine, smacking his lips and frowning thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.”

“Two hundred dollars a bottle,” Molly says proudly, grinning when Caduceus’ eyes widen. “Don’t worry, Beau took it from her parents. Now, why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you around. Fjord, you can hang up the coats,” he adds absentmindedly, waving Fjord away.

Fjord watches in disbelief as he sweeps Caduceus away with an arm around his waist, chattering away happily. Caduceus glances back at Fjord apologetically, shrugging and looking faintly lost. 

He sees Beau sidle up to his side out of the corner of his eye, glancing sideways at her as she does.

“Told you,” she says, smirking as she passes Fjord one of the glasses of wine she’s holding. “He’s not letting it go.”

“Give it ten minutes, Caduceus will get sick of him. Either that or I’ll lock him in the bathroom,” Fjord mutters darkly. He drains half the wine in one go. He has a feeling he’s going to need it tonight.

Beau snorts. “Caduceus is too nice to say anything,” she says. She takes a drink from her own glass, pursing her lips in consideration. “Think he’ll say anything? I mean… anything _ really _ obvious?”

“If he does, I’m putting my foot up his ass,” Fjord grumbles. “He knows nothing is happening. And I don’t want Caduceus feeling uncomfortable because he wants to play matchmaker.”

Beau hums thoughtfully.

“Oh, Caleb is over there if you want to meet him,” she says, gesturing across the room to where the man he’s seen in Molly’s pictures is sitting on the couch with Yasha.

“Maybe later,” Fjord says, sighing as he watches Molly approach the two of them with Caduceus in tow, clearing introducing him. Molly points back at where Fjord and Beau are standing and Caleb pokes his head around Caduceus so he can see the two of them, raising a hand in greeting that Fjord returns with a stiff smile.

“I need to think up the worst story of Molly I have first,” Fjord continues, narrowing his eyes suspiciously when Molly laughs and claps Caduceus’ firmly on the back.

“This is going to be a long night,” he sighs, gulping down the rest of his wine.

“You invited him,” Beau says airily, still smirking.

“I know,” Fjord grumbles, unable to stop himself from smiling when Caduceus glances over his shoulder at him like he’s checking that he’s still there. 

“Wow,” Beau says flatly. “You’ve really got it bad, huh?”

“Shut up,” Fjord mutters, elbowing her roughly and scowling when she snorts with laughter.

“I’m gonna go ‘mingle’,” she says, making heavy air quotes as she says the word. She grins as she walks off in the direction of a dwarven woman leaning against the mantel drinking a beer and looking faintly bored.

Fjord rolls his eyes but doesn’t follow her, drumming his fingers against his own glass indecisively. He’s halfway through his third glass of wine when he finally makes his way over to where Caduceus has been sitting chatting with Caleb and Molly for the last ten minutes, Yasha having long since disappeared. Caduceus is leaning against the armrest of the couch with his glass of wine, which looks almost as full as when Molly had given it to him, nodding and smiling kindly at something Caleb is saying. 

He brightens as Fjord approaches but Molly intercepts him, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Fjord!” he says brightly, grinning, “Did you know that Caduceus does yoga, too? Isn’t that _ interesting_? He’s going to come to one of my classes sometime, isn’t that right, Caduceus?”

“Thought it might be fun,” Caduceus says with a shrug.

“Mm, so fun,” Molly says, smirking. He claps Fjord on the back, “well I’m going to go be a host for awhile. Caleb, darling, come find me when you’re done.”

He leans down to kiss Caleb on top of his head before wandering off. Fjord struggles not to roll his eyes as he turns back to Caduceus, whose smile widens warmly.

“Hey,” he says, shifting towards Caleb to give Fjord room to sit. He pats Fjord’s knee as he sits and Fjord swears he squeezes it gently before laying his hand back in his lap again.

“Nice to finally meet you, Fjord,” Caleb says, leaning forward to offer Fjord a small smile, holding his hand towards him to shake. “Molly has told me a lot about you and Beauregard.”

“Same here,” Fjord says, shaking his hand briefly. “Molly loves to run his damn mouth,” he adds, scowling at Molly where he’s standing on the other side of the room talking to a few of the other guests Fjord doesn’t know.

Caleb looks taken aback by the irritation in his voice but doesn’t comment on it, merely clearing his throat and turning back to Caduceus.

“Caleb was just telling me about his cat,” Caduceus says, smiling benignly. “His name is Frumpkin.”

“I’m allergic to cats,” Fjord says absently, taking another sip of his wine.

“Really?” Caduceus says, frowning. “Huh. What about dogs?”

Fjord shrugs noncommittally. “Don’t have anything against them, I guess.”

Caduceus hums and takes a sip of his wine, though the volume in the glass doesn’t change and Fjord is beginning to wonder if he’s just feigning drinking it to be polite.

“Not all of us can talk to animals,” Fjord continues with a grin, “or whatever you were doing with that otter at the aquarium.”

“I was just checking to see how they were doing,” Caduceus says as if this is a perfectly normal response.

“Oh, yeah?” Fjord says, grin widening. “And what did it say?”

“It said you should listen to what I tell you because I’m very wise,” Caduceus replies, eyes glinting playfully.

“Is that right?” Fjord says, nodding with a faux serious air. “Handsome, too, I bet it said?”

“Mm, it might have,” Caduceus shrugs. He chuckles at Fjord’s dubious look and Fjord can’t help but laugh quietly with him.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb suddenly pipes up from Caduceus’ other side, frowning in confusion. “Molly didn’t say, are you two…” he trails off, glancing between them hesitantly.

“No,” Fjord says quickly before Caduceus can answer. He shakes his head hard and forces a laugh. “No, nope, not at all. Just—nope.”

“My apologies,” Caleb mutters, looking both bewildered and faintly suspicious. He clears his throat and pushes himself to his feet and mumbling, “I’m going to find Molly. It was nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to meet you, Caleb,” Caduceus calls warmly after him as he leaves. He takes another faux sip of his wine.

“You don’t have to pretend to drink that, you know,” Fjord says as Caduceus lowers his glass again. The wine he’s drunk himself is starting to make him feel warm and loose and he allows himself to lean some of his weight against Caduceus’ shoulder where they’re still seated close on the couch despite it now being half empty with Caleb gone. He smiles lazily when Caduceus doesn’t move away.

“Didn’t want to be rude,” Caduceus’ says with a shrug. He glances at Fjord’s own nearly empty glass. “You might want to slow down yourself, though.”

“I’m drinking for both of us,” Fjord says, clinking his glass against Caduceus’ before draining it with a satisfied hum. He sees Caduceus open his mouth and quickly continues, “So, if you celebrate Christmas, does your family, too? Are you spending Christmas at home?”

Caduceus looks torn between answering and pushing the argument about Fjord’s drinking, though he relents after a few seconds.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I’m heading up there next weekend for the week. Any big plans with Vandren?”

Fjord shakes his head, fighting back a bitter laugh. “Nah, he’s not really the festive type,” he says. “Molly is going out of town with Yasha and some other people from the circus he used to work at. Might get drunk with Beau one night if she’s not stuck doing family stuff.” He shrugs, turning his glass in his fingers and watching the light reflect off the rim.

“That sounds miserable,” Caduceus says bluntly.

Fjord chuckles, shrugging again. He’s spent every Christmas since he graduated college alone apart from occasionally meeting up with Beau or Molly when one of them was free. He supposed he would find it depressing if it wasn’t used to it.

“Hey,” Caduceus says gently. He lays his hand on Fjord’s knee and Fjord freezes. “My mom loves guests. And there’s always more than enough to go around. If you’re okay with eating vegetarian, at least.”

Fjord stares at him blankly for a few seconds as he tries to digest his words.

“Spend Christmas with you?” he says at last, keeping his tone carefully measured, “With your family?”

“If you want,” Caduceus says. “I’m not sure I could live with myself knowing you’re spending it alone.”

His hand is still resting lightly on Fjord’s knee and he feels a sudden, overwhelming compression on his chest as if someone has hollowed it out to let it cave in on itself.

“I, um,” he clears his throat and swallows thickly, “I think I need some air.”

He stands hastily and makes his way towards the kitchen without looking back at Caduceus. He refills his glass with shaking hands before stepping out onto the small balcony, closing the door behind him and savoring the quiet, the only sound the distant sound of traffic and the faint wind. He downs half his wine and grips the iron railing hard with his other hand, closing his eyes and breathing in the cold, fortifying night air.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing one hand down his face. 

He sets his glass down and stares out at the snaking pinpricks of headlights winding along the highway, the sky overhead dotted with stars among the scattered clouds. The wind picks up and he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself and rubbing his hands over his biceps to try and get his blood flowing in the chill.

He hears the door slide open behind him and his stomach leaps expectantly, though when he turns, its Beau shutting the door rather than Caduceus.

“Just me,” she says, seemingly sensing his mingled disappointment and relief. 

She comes up beside him, leaning back against the balcony and tipping her head back to stare up at the sky overhead.

“You got out of there pretty quick,” she says casually, “something happen?”

Fjord laughs humorlessly under his breath.

“He, uh, he invited me to spend Christmas with his family,” he says, “says he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if I spent it alone.”

Beau gapes at him.

“I don’t—how am I supposed to interpret that?” Fjord says a little desperately. “Christ, Beau, he’s been… I don’t know what to think anymore. I don’t want to believe he’d lead me on but, fuck, what else am I supposed to think?”

“Dude, just ask him flat out,” Beau says irritably. She sighs, her tone softening slightly to something more serious, “Do you want to go?”

“I… I want to spend time with him,” Fjord says after a moment’s consideration.

“Is it worth it?” Beau says, “Spending all this time with him if it’s just going to give you false hope?”

“I don’t know if it’s false hope, though,” Fjord says. “Maybe you were right before, maybe I just have to try and wait it out and see if things change. I don’t want to say anything and make it weird. I’d rather deal with whatever this is than risk losing him entirely.”

Beau blows out a breath through her lips. “Just don’t… don’t get in so deep you can’t get out if it goes go to shit, yeah? He’s a good guy but I _will_ beat his ass if I need to.”

Fjord frowns sternly at her and she shrugs. She stills, eyes fixed back through the door to the apartment, and Fjord turns to see Caduceus waiting on the other side. He smiles and points out to the balcony like he’s asking permission to join them.

“That’s my cue to fuck off,” Beau says, straightening up and clapping Fjord on the arm. She gestures for Caduceus to come outside.

“Good to see you again, Beau,” Caduceus says as he steps out onto the balcony. “How’s that knee doing?”

“It’s good,” Beau replies, swinging her leg lightly as if to demonstrate. “Been back to kickboxing for awhile.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Caduceus says with a benign smile.

“He’s all yours,” Beau says, nodding to Fjord and patting Caduceus on the arm before heading back inside. She flashes Fjord an encouraging thumbs up from behind Caduceus’ back then disappears down the hall.

“Hey,” Fjord says as Caduceus approaches to stand next to him against the railing. He notices he’s abandoned his wine somewhere.

“Hey,” Caduceus replies, lightly gripping the rail, his hand only a few inches from Fjord’s. 

The stand in silence for a few seconds before Caduceus turns towards him.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “if I made you uncomfortable inviting you. I guess I was just thinking how much I hated the idea of you spending the holidays alone, I didn’t really stop to consider that it was kind of a lot. I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything.”

Fjord doesn’t respond immediately, looking down at his fingers where they’re steadily turning pale in the cold. He turns to face Caduceus, who looks back at him with a mix of concern and apology.

“What are you doing?” Fjord says, “Why are you—why did you invite me? We haven’t exactly known each other a long time.”

Caduceus’ expression falls slightly, ears drooping like Fjord has stung him.

“Well… no, I guess not,” he says, “But... I think we know each other pretty well, don't you? And I care about you, Fjord. You know that, right?” There’s an almost pleading edge to his voice and he lays his hand on top of Fjord’s. His fingers are cold. “I just thought spending the holidays with a friend would be better than spending them alone.”

Fjord wants to push him further, wants to ask if he knows how confusing he’s making things for him. But the fear of losing him entirely bubbles up in him again and his irritation withers.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling sadly, “I guess it would be.”

“So you want to come?” Caduceus says, sounding both confused and hopeful.

“Sure,” Fjord says resignedly, “sounds like fun. And I can finally meet these sisters you’ve been talking about.”

Caduceus’ eyes widen slightly and what Fjord can only describe as fear passes over his face, though it’s gone before he can try and question it.

“I’ll do my best to try and prepare you for them,” he says.

The wind picks up and Fjord shivers, goosebumps erupting on the back of his neck and arms. Caduceus gives his hand a small squeeze before nodding to the sliding door.

“Why don’t we go inside before we both freeze? I wonder if Molly has any tea,” he muses as he heads back inside with Fjord behind him.

Fjord ends up digging two crumpled packets of instant hot chocolate out of Molly’s cupboard, the two of them sitting across from each other at the small dining room table talking and sipping their drinks while the party grows steadily more rowdy down the hall. Beau comes looking for them after almost an hour, their mugs long since empty and the fuzzy haze of alcohol nearly faded from Fjord's brain.

“Hey!” she says sharply, her eyes sliding in and out of focus as she points an accusatory finger at them both. “There you are.”

“Here I am,” Fjord says, biting back a grin as she grips the edge of the counter to steady herself and squints at him.

“What’re you doing?” she says, words slurring together slightly.

“Talking,” Fjord says simply, “what does it look like we’re doing?”

Beau makes a long, drawn-out, thoughtful noise in her throat.

“Dunno,” she says at last, shrugging loosely. “Y’should come back though or Molly’s gonna start looking for you and scold you for being a bad guest.”

She turns to leave, stops, takes the bottle of wine Fjord had opened earlier, and wanders back down the hall, taking a heavy pull from the bottle as she goes.

“Well she seems to be having a good time,” Caduceus says.

Fjord laughs. He gathers up their mugs and stands to set them in the sink.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing for Caduceus to follow him. “Don’t want to get you on Molly’s bad side already. I imagine you’re almost ready to leave, too.”

“It is getting late,” Caduceus says with a sigh. He hides a yawn in the back of his hand as he stands, blinking hard a few times.

“Let’s go,” Fjord says fondly, “I’ll walk you home.”

Caduceus gives him a grateful smile as they walk back to the living room, where the music and chatter is louder than it was when they left it well over an hour ago. Beau is seated on the couch still clutching the bottle of wine, which she appears to be sharing with the dwarven woman she’d been talking to earlier on in the night. Molly is at the center of a clustered group of people, one arm slung around Caleb’s waist and a near empty glass of wine in his other hand. His face brightens when he sees them enter the room and he raises his glass to hail them.

“I was wondering where you disappeared to,” he calls, disentangling himself from Caleb to make his way towards them. He smirks suggestively as he approaches. “Where have you two been?”

“Nowhere,” Fjord says bluntly, ignoring his scowl, “I think we’re going to head out.”

“What?” Molly cries. “But you just got here!”

“We’ve been here for hours, Molly.”

“But, you didn’t even—” Fjord gives him a warning look and he huffs and mutters, “Fine.”

He turns to Caduceus and holds out his hand towards him. “It was nice to meet you, Caduceus.”

“You too, Molly,” Caduceus replies, smiling and shaking his hand.

Molly gives Fjord a firm hug. “See you next Saturday, yeah?” he murmurs.

“Oh, um, actually, no,” Fjord says guiltily. “I’m going out of town next weekend.”

“Oh?” Molly says, frowning in surprise. “Where?”

“He’s coming with me to my parents’ place for Christmas,” Caduceus says with a cheerful smile.

Molly’s eyes nearly bug out of his head and Fjord does step on his foot this time when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Alright, well, we’d better get going,” Fjord says quickly. “See you later, Molly.” He grips Caduceus by the elbow and steers him towards the hall.

“Wait!” Molly calls after them.

Fjord closes his eyes to brace himself as they stop in the doorway leading to the hall.

“What, Molly?” Fjord says in a falsely pleasant voice, turning back to look at him.

Molly merely grins and points up, lifting his eyes above Fjord’s head.

Fjord feels the sickening lurch of dread even before he’s fully looked up at the sprig of green leaves and white berries neatly tied with a red ribbon and pinned to the lintel.

“Come on, now, don’t be a grinch,” Molly says with a wide, impish grin.

“Molly,” Fjord begins sharply, falling silent when Caduceus’ hand rests lightly on his shoulder. He turns to look at him, expecting him to be uncomfortable, maybe even angry, but instead he simply smiles softly and takes Fjord’s head in his hands to tilt his face up towards him. Fjord is fairly certain his heart stops in that moment, jarring in his chest like it doesn’t remember exactly how it’s supposed to work. His limbs feel locked in place and he can do little more than stand there numbly as Caduceus closes his eyes and presses his lips to his forehead. 

It’s barely a second of contact but he still feels his entire face burn with heat all the way to the tips of his ears. Molly makes a loud, disappointed noise but Fjord barely hears it. He feels dizzy and weak-kneed, staring up at Caduceus in disbelief.

“Ready to go?” Caduceus says. He’s not quite looking at him, his expression inscrutable.

“Yeah,” Fjord says automatically, nodding. He trails after Caduceus into the entry, shrugging on his coat and glancing back at where Molly has now pulled Caleb under the mistletoe and is kissing him thoroughly.

“Here,” Caduceus says, turning Fjord back to face him so he can tug his hat down over his ears. “You probably need it more, I’ve got better insultation.” He gestures to his long hair with a smile that falters when Fjord merely blinks at him.

“Right, so…” Caduceus clears his throat and pulls the front door open, waiting for Fjord to walk past him into the hall before pulling it shut behind them with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for comments! :)
> 
> I got a good deal of chapter 12 finished so I figured I'd go ahead and post this; though, again, I might skip next week if I don't have chapter 12 done by then


	11. Chapter 11

They don’t talk about the kiss the entire way back to Caduceus’ apartment. Even when Fjord drops Caduceus at his door and there’s a drawn out minute of silence, he forces himself to break it by telling Caduceus he’ll see him Monday. There’s a moment where Caduceus seems undecided, hesitating with his lips parted and one hand raised slightly. He eventually settles on patting Fjord on the shoulder and responding in kind before slipping into his apartment.

For the rest of the week Fjord simply pretends the party didn’t happen at all, a sentiment Caduceus seems to readily agree on. Fjord’s not sure if he’s relieved or annoyed by the decision. He’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to feel. He doesn’t even know if he’s supposed to be happy about what happened. Or if he should mirror Beau’s new aggravation with Caduceus and demand he talk about whatever there is or isn’t hanging between them. He wards her prodding off with the same excuse that he’s worried he’ll lose Caduceus entirely if he brings it up. It's starting to feel a little thin even to him.

They still talk as much as they have the past few weeks, Fjord often falling asleep mid-conversation and waking up the next morning to a message from Caduceus telling him to sleep well that leaves that warm glow in his chest for hours. He’s tempted sometimes to call him, but there’s something about the ability to review what he says before he actually says it that makes texting feel infinitely safer than calling him. He thinks especially when he’s in that loose-limbed state right before he falls asleep that his tongue might end up betraying him where his clumsy fingers haven’t had a chance to yet.

By the time Caduceus pulls up at his apartment complex to pick him up late Saturday afternoon, he’s pushed the party out of his mind, worried more about how he’s supposed to stop himself from saying anything too obvious for the nearly full week they’re about to spend together. He’s replayed Caduceus’ explanation for inviting him over in his head a thousand times to keep himself from reading into it, though there’s still a niggling sensation in the back of his brain telling him maybe he still has reason to hope, that maybe he’s reading into things because there is actually something there to read. 

Caduceus gives him a warm smile as he shifts his car into park and steps out, bundled in a deep green coat and matching hat that give him that familiar cozy sort of look that makes Fjord’s stomach knot and squirm with affection.

“This is your car?” Fjord says, hoisting his bag and walking towards the beat-up sedan, eyeing it over dubiously. 

“Yeah,” Caduceus replies with a benign sort of smile, popping the trunk for Fjord to load his bag in. “This actually belonged to my aunt, too, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have a car. I try to use the train when I can, you know? Makes it easier visiting home, though.” 

“You’re sure it’ll make it there?” Fjord says, poking at a rusted spot and stilling when a piece of paint flakes off.

Caduceus chuckles. “It hasn’t failed me yet,” he says, patting the roof of the car as Fjord begins shifting things aside so he can fit his bag in alongside Caduceus’. “Besides, if we get stranded, I’m sure we can figure out a way to entertain ourselves until someone picks us up.”

Fjord slams the back of his head into the roof of the trunk in his haste to stand.

“Are you okay?” Caduceus says, reaching for him worriedly.

“Fine,” Fjord says, turning away so Caduceus can’t see how dark his cheeks are. “We should probably get on the road, yeah?” He swears under his breath, rubbing the back of his head as he climbs into the passenger seat. The interior smells of pine and something faintly floral he can’t place.

“Oh, yeah, alright,” Caduceus says, sounding perplexed but getting back into the car next to him. “Sure you’re okay?” He touches the back of Fjord’s head lightly and a shiver runs all the way down his spine and into his boots.

“Mhm,” Fjord replies, nodding stiffly.

Caduceus frowns at him for another moment before shrugging and shifting the car into gear. Fjord closes his eyes and takes a grounding breath, kicking himself internally for ever agreeing to do this. He has the impulsive, wild thought to fake an emergency call from Beau to give himself an excuse to back out, but Caduceus is pulling onto the highway as the idea crosses his brain so he slumps back into his seat instead and searches for a safe topic of conversation.

“So, your siblings will all be there?” he settles on finally.

“Mm, my sisters will be,” Caduceus says, “Cas will be in tomorrow.”

“Cas,” Fjord echoes, racking his brain, “That’s… Cassian, yeah?”

Caduceus beams, nodding.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Fjord says, turning in his seat slightly to look at him. “Is that… a family tradition or something?”

“Is what?” 

“That all of you have names that start with C?”

Caduceus doesn’t respond immediately, blinking and frowning slightly like he’s mulling over the question.

“Huh,” he says after a few seconds, “We do, don’t we?” He smiles and shrugs. “Dunno.”

Fjord stares at him with mingled disbelief and fondness, shaking his head and laughing quietly.

“You’re sure Vandren won’t care I’m taking you away all week?” Caduceus says, expression turning worried. “I know you said he’s not big on holidays but he’s not going to be upset at you missing practice, is he?”

“I promised him I would work out every day,” Fjord says with a sigh. “So make sure I do that. At least two hours on top of my run. Though I guess I could count what you assigned me as part of it.”

“You’re sure he’s not working you too hard?” Caduceus says, brow furrowing in disapproval. “That much can put a lot of stress on your shoulder.”

“Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing my doctor will be there to make sure I don’t overdo it,” Fjord says, quirking an eyebrow.

Caduceus chuckles but bobs his head in agreement. 

“I’ll keep a close eye on you,” he says, flashing Fjord a smile before refocusing his gaze on the road again. 

Fjord turns to look out the window so he doesn’t see the dopey smile he can’t keep off his face.

The rest of the drive passes in stretches of comfortable silence and easy conversation, going by so quickly that Fjord is surprised when Caduceus pulls off the main road into a residential neighborhood. They weave back through several smaller streets until they finally turn off onto a short gravel drive leading to a quaint home of stone and weather-worn wood, clusters of overgrown, now barren bushes and withered flowerbeds planted along the front. 

There’s an old, shaggy looking goat tethered to a post in the front yard, chewing slowly and looking entirely unbothered as Caduceus pulls up behind one of the other cars sitting in the drive and shifts the car into park.

“Your parents have a goat?” Fjord says, staring at the animal in question as it shambles a few steps forward and begins eating at another patch of grass.

“Hm?” Caduceus looks up from unbuckling his seatbelt. “Oh, yeah, they got her a right before I graduated high school to help take care of the lawn.”

“So it’s not just you, then?” 

“Not just me what?”

“Nevermind,” Fjord says, shaking his head and unclipping his own seatbelt so he can climb out of the car. He stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders back with a satisfied grunt, working out the stiffness in his muscles before joining Caduceus at the trunk.

“No, I’ve got it,” Caduceus says when Fjord tries to take his bag from him. “You’re my guest, after all.”

Fjord scoffs but doesn’t argue, smiling as he follows Caduceus across the front yard towards the door. Caduceus pauses to pat the goat on the head as they pass.

“Hey, Clarabelle,” he says, scratching the goat behind the ear. The goat butts its nose into his hand in what Fjord imagines is a show of affection.

“I thought Clarabelle was your sister?” Fjord says, frowning as Caduceus continues walking again.

Caduceus grins with what Fjord can only describe as gleeful mischief.

“It is,” he says, glancing back at Fjord, “I named the goat after her just to piss her off.” He shrugs. “She wasn’t here to argue.”

“Caduceus Clay,” Fjord laughs incredulously, “and I thought I was the one full of surprises.” 

Caduceus’ grin widens, his expression mollified. They step up onto the covered front porch and Caduceus knocks once on the front door before pushing it inward.

“Mom?” he calls out as they step into the warm entry, what looks to be a living room empty besides a crackling fireplace off to the left. “Where is everyone?”

Fjord hears the babble of talk in an adjacent room quiet.

“Coming!” a cheerful voice calls. There’s the sound of approaching footsteps down the hall and Fjord turns to see a tall, willowy woman approaching them. Her long, auburn hair is pulled in a neat plait down her back, a length of fine plum fabric trimmed with silver wrapped around her waist and draped up over her chest to hang over one shoulder. She has the same coral pink eyes as Caduceus, though there are faint wrinkles at the corners. It’s her smile that Fjord recognizes first, though, that same wide, welcoming smile that Caduceus has given him since the day they met, so familiar he feels himself immediately endeared to her.

“Good trip, darling?” she says as she pulls Caduceus into a hug. “How was traffic?”

“Pretty light,” Caduceus responds, accepting her kiss on the cheek without fuss. “Holiday traffic hasn’t started yet. Is dad home?”

“He called ten minutes ago as he was leaving the temple,” she replies. She turns to Fjord and her smile widens warmly. “And you must be Fjord.”

Fjord holds his hand out towards her but she ignores it and pulls him into a surprisingly firm hug for someone as thin as she is. Despite her being shorter than Caduceus she’s still several inches taller than Fjord is.

“Caduceus has spoken very highly of you,” she says as she holds him out at arm’s length. “You were right, he is very handsome.”

“Mom,” Caduceus mumbles crossly. 

He doesn’t meet Fjord’s eye when he glances at him, though his stomach leaps hopefully at the faint flush across his cheeks.

“I’ve heard a lot about all of you as well, Missus Clay,” Fjord says, forcing his attention back to Caduceus’ mother. 

She laughs, shaking her head. “Caduceus’ friends haven’t called me Missus Clay since middle school,” she says. “Constance is fine, dear.”

“Well, Constance,” Fjord acquiesces, “I must say, you do not look old enough to be Caduceus’ mother. You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”

“And charming,” Constance says with another laugh. “You were right there, too, Caduceus.”

“_Mom_,” Caduceus mutters almost desperately.

“Alright, alright,” Constance says airily, “why don’t you come meet the others, Fjord? Then you can go upstairs and get settled.” She gestures down the hall from where she’d come and they both slip off their coats and shoes before following her.

“How’s Delia doing?” Caduceus says.

“Miserable,” Constance sighs sadly. “The doctor said it will be any day though so we just have to wait. The doula is on speed dial and we’ve got her bag in the car already. Michael went out to get extra towels and blankets just in case.”

Caduceus grimaces but doesn’t say anything more as they step into a wide kitchen with dark cabinets, several pots steaming gently on the stove and giving off a mix of smells that makes Fjord’s mouth water and his stomach growl loudly, though luckily no one else seems to hear it. There’s a long table on the far side of the room already seated with four other firbolg women, who fall silent as they enter.

“Hey, loser,” one of them says, smirking at Caduceus. Her hair is darker than Caduceus, cropped short to her skull, and there’s a gold hoop through one nostril. Fjord is immediately reminded of Beau.

“Clara,” Constance says sternly, “we have a guest.”

Clarabelle flashes Fjord a grin.

“Caduceus, why don’t you introduce Fjord to everyone,” Constance says kindly.

Caduceus gives a forced sort of smile. “Everyone, this is Fjord. Fjord this is Clarabelle, Colton, Cordelia, and Cadence,” he rattles off in a bored voice, gesturing to his sisters in turn. None of them look as close to Caduceus as his mother but he can see him in the shape of their eyes or the sharp line of their jaw. None of them seem to have Caduceus’ smile, though they all offer him a friendly one in return.

“Caduceus has told us a lot about you,” Cordelia says. She grimaces and holds her hand on her stomach, hidden under the table, and the others go tense immediately.

“I’m okay,” she says reassuringly. “Just kicking.”

“He’s going to kick his way out of their pretty soon,” Clarabelle mutters.

“Cad said you’re a swimmer,” Colton says eagerly, looking to Fjord, “I looked you up online, you had some articles written about you! Is it true you were going to go to the Olympics until you hurt your shoulder?”

Something cold drops in Fjord’s stomach and he feels suddenly off balance at the unexpected question.

“Oh, um, yeah,” he says, “I was gonna try out for them.”

“That must suck,” Colton says, still in that same bright tone.

“Colton, shut up,” Cadence mutters, elbowing her in the side.

“Fjord,” Constance interjects loudly, “why don’t you and Caduceus take your bags upstairs? I told Caduceus you were welcome to the couch but he said you can stay in his room.”

“That couch is ancient, mom,” Caduceus says, “he needs a decent bed with his shoulder.” He turns to Fjord. “I can use the couch or I can set up the air mattress on me floor.”

“Whatever you want, dear,” Constance says, patting in fondly on the cheek. “Dinner will be ready soon. I hope you’re alright eating vegetarian, Fjord.”

“I’m sure it’s much better than whatever I’d be eating at home,” Fjord says honestly.

She smiles indulgently. “Go on, you two,” she says, gesturing to the hall. “I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.”

“Come on,” Caduceus mutters, nodding for Fjord to follow him back down the hall and up the stairs, the floorboards creaking in several spots under their feet. Caduceus leads him down the hall off the landing to the third door, a small sign hanging from it with Caduceus’ name hand painted on it. He looks back to see the other two labeled with Colton and Cordelia’s names.

“Sorry about them,” Caduceus says as he pushes open the door, the hinges squeaking with age. 

“No, it’s great,” Fjord says honestly, following him into the room. It’s small and slightly cramped, a bed topped with a hand-made quilt against one wall and a small dresser against the other topped with an assortment of framed pictures, knickknacks, and a wooden Buddha statue draped in a string of dark prayer beads. “Your mom is nice.”

“She was so excited when I told her I was bringing a friend,” Caduceus says with a soft chuckle. “She loves entertaining guests.”

“Is your sister going to be okay?” Fjord says, setting his bag on the floor. 

“Yeah,” Caduceus says, dropping his own bag on the bed. “My mom used to be a nurse so she’ll be ready. Just… maybe be prepared for things to be a little nuts if she goes into labor.”

“Right…” 

“Hungry?” Caduceus says, looking up from shifting through his bag. “My mom probably went overboard to try and impress you, she always goes into overdrive cooking when guests come over.”

“Starving, actually,” Fjord says, grimacing when his stomach growls on cue.

Caduceus smiles warmly and Fjord has that familiar feeling of melting at the sight. The sound of the front door opening and shutting filters up the stairs and Caduceus’ ears prick up at the noise.

“Must be my dad,” he says, nodding when a low, rumbling voice declares the arrival of whoever just walked in the front door. 

“Cornelius, right?” Fjord says hesitantly.

Caduceus nods, looking pleased and impressed that he remembered. Fjord decides not to mention the note he’s been keeping in his phone with all the names of Caduceus’ family each time he mentions a new one so he can try and keep them straight.

“Come on,” Caduceus says, standing and stretching with a yawn. “It’s probably almost time to eat anyway.”

Fjord follows him back to the kitchen, where an older firbolg man with long, greying hair is standing at the stove sniffing at one of the pots curiously. He’s even taller than Caduceus, though he’s bulkier, with thick arms and a rotund belly that strains slightly against the deep red robe he’s wearing. He gestures Caduceus over when he sees him enter, pulling him into a one-armed hug and muttering something into his ear that makes Caduceus laugh before replying with something Fjord can’t hear. 

He gestures back to Fjord, who raises one hand in an awkward wave, Caduceus’ father nodding and smiling broadly in return. There’s a gentle hand on Fjord’s shoulder and he turns to see Caduceus’ mother at his side clutching a stack of plates.

“Fjord, dear, why don’t you wash up and have a seat?” she says, stopping a passing Colton to hand her the stack of plates, which she accepts begrudgingly and begins setting out on the table.

“I can help,” Fjord offers.

“Nonsense, you’re a guest,” Constance says, waving him off. “Caduceus usually sits on the right side of the table, second chair. If you want to sit next to him.” She smiles a little too knowingly for Fjord’s liking before moving to the cabinets to pull cutlery out of a drawer.

Fjord shuffles over to take the indicated seat, still feeling overly warm at the collar when Caduceus appears to take the chair next to him a few minutes later.

“Don’t sit down,” Clarabelle says before he can say anything. She’s hefting a large serving bowl of what looks to be some sort of thick, yellow stew. She scowls at Caduceus as she sets it on the table. “Help set the table, asshole.”

“Language, Clarabelle,” Constance says sternly from across the room.

“Mom, I’m thirty-five years old, I can call Caduceus an asshole,” Clarabelle counters.

“When you brought your girlfriend last year, you didn’t help with anything,” Caduceus says irritability.

“He’s not your boyfriend.” Clarabelle smirks, nodding to Fjord. “Unless you have something to share?”

“Fine,” Caduceus mutters angrily, standing and pulling away from her when she tries to tousle his hair with a snicker.

Fjord watches them bickering with a strange mix of fondness and jealousy, smiling faintly as Caduceus begins helping spoon the contents of the pots into serving dishes, looking so comfortably at ease that Fjord can’t help but feel a pang of longing in his chest. He’s not sure if it’s for Caduceus or for his family. Maybe a little of both.

The table is soon full of a dozen bowls and platters heaped high with food, all of which smells good enough to make his mouth water and none of which he recognizes. He thinks one dish looks vaguely like the dish Molly always gets from the Indian takeout place they sometimes order from but he doesn’t recall the name.

“Do you like Indian food?” Caduceus says when he slips back into his seat again.

Fjord shrugs. “I’ve only had tikka masala before,” he mutters. 

Caduceus gives him a fond sort of smile and pats his knee under the table. “I’ll help you,” he says.

Cornelius says a brief prayer during which Fjord tries not to fidget as they all silently bow their heads and clasp their hands. As soon as he’s finished, the bright chatter returns to the table and the rest of them begin doling food out onto their plates.

“Fjord, dear, you look a little overwhelmed,” Constance says, standing and reaching for his plate. “Why don’t I get you a some of everything so you can see what you like?”

“I’m actually on a diet,” Fjord says reluctantly as his stomach gives another hungry growl. "I shouldn't eat too much."

“Nonsense,” Constance says, clicking her tongue as she begins loading Fjord’s plate with food. “You’re an athlete, you need to eat well.”

“Don’t try and argue with her, she’s in her element,” Caduceus mutters under his breath. 

“Can you at least tell me what I’m about to eat?” Fjord says quietly.

Caduceus chuckles, nodding. “That’s dal,” he says, pointing to the yellow stew-like dish his mother is now spooning onto Fjord’s plate. “Red lentils. That’s paneer. Kind of textured like tofu. It’s actually a cheese, though. Obviously that’s rice. That’s naan, you’ve probably had it before. Those little ball looking things in sauce are kofta, it’s like a fried vegetable ball. Down at the end is chickpea curry. And those two sauces there are saag and korma, you just serve them with the paneer.” 

He points to each of the dishes in turn as he names them, Fjord feeling no less overwhelmed when Constance sets his full plate back in front of him with a smile.

“Right,” Fjord mutters, staring down at the pile of food.

“If you don’t like something you don’t have to eat it,” Caduceus says as he begins dishing food onto his own plate. 

Fjord prods one of the kofta with his fork before cutting it in half and taking a bite. He has to stifle a groan at the taste.

“Good?” Caduceus says, smiling as Fjord eagerly tries the next dish.

Fjord nods, mouth full, and Caduceus’ smile widens.

“I don’t really eat home-cooked food like this that often,” Fjord says when he finally swallows.

“You should have said something,” Caduceus says. “When we get back you can come over sometime and I’ll cook for you. I’m not _ quite _ as good as my mom but she also has about twenty-five years of experience on me.”

“That’d be nice,” Fjord says, pausing in the act of tearing a piece of naan in half to look up at him.

Caduceus’ smile softens and he bumps his knuckles against the back of Fjord’s hand on the table before he returns to his food. Fjord stares at him for a moment before nudging his foot into Caduceus’ under the table, biting back a smile when Caduceus nudges his foot back.

He spends most of the meal listening to the talk between Caduceus and his family, occasionally offering a response when one of them addresses him. Mostly he just enjoys watching the easy exchange of talk and laughter and barbs back and forth around the table, that familiar burn of sadness and jealousy in his belly for what he’d never had. But he feels more welcome at the Clay’s table than he ever really felt at any of the tables he grew up sitting at. Halfway through the meal, Cordelia’s husband—a firbolg with deep blue-grey skin and a mop of dark hair—appears with several bags full of fresh towels and blankets, squeezing into the seat next to her and fitting easily into the conversation. Every now and then Caduceus will lean over to murmur an explanation of something in his ear or make a quip under his breath about one of his sisters, though he’s smiling when he says it and Fjord can see the love they have for each other even beneath the teasing and arguing. 

His jeans already feel uncomfortably tight when Constance brings out dessert—a dish of some sort of fried balls of dough soaked in sticky-sweet syrup—and Fjord turns the offer down twice before he finally accepts the plate she hands him. He tries not to think about how much he’s going to have to exercise this week just to break even, much less _ lose _any weight. He can practically hear Vandren’s scolding him with each bite.

“So have you always enjoyed swimming?” Constance asks when the conversation falls into a lull, several of Caduceus’ sisters retreating to the living room with Cornelius and Cordelia’s husband where Fjord can now hear them playing some sort of game, loud bursts of laughter occasionally filtering down the hall. “I imagine it must be a lot of work doing it professionally.”

“It is,” Fjord nods. “I started when I was pretty young. Competed all throughout high school and college then just kept doing it afterwards. It’s been… weird not doing it lately.”

“His father is his coach, Mom,” Caduceus chimes in.

“Well, that must be nice,” Constance says brightly.

Fjord feels the familiar sickening twist of guilt in his stomach, nodding mutely.

“I’m afraid none of us are really swimmers,” Constance says with an apologetic sort of grimace. “I moved here with my parents and sister when I was eight but, you know, I still have only seen the ocean once when we first got here. I’m not sure we Clays are made for water.”

“Fjord is teaching me how to swim,” Caduceus says, looking pleased. 

“He’s a quick learner,” Fjord says, smiling when Caduceus beams at him.

Constance hums and reaches across the table to squeeze Caduceus’ hand. 

“You should have seen him when he was younger,” she says fondly. “You couldn’t tell now but he was so small back then. Always exploring the woods behind the house. Finding interesting plants and mushrooms or trying to become friends with any animals he found.”

“Mom,” Caduceus says, sounding faintly embarrassed.

“One time,” Constance continues, ignoring him, “he found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest, poor thing. He dug a grave in the back yard and found a rock for a headstone and made us all come out and have a little ceremony for it.”

“It was so weird,” Colton says to Fjord from where she’s seated on his other side.

“No,” Constance says, giving her a stern look before turning back to Caduceus. “It was sweet. Always such a sweet boy.”

Caduceus returns her smile, though he still looks embarrassed.

“You had a long drive here, why don’t the two of you head upstairs and get cleaned up and unpacked?” Constance says. “Caduceus, do you need your father to get the air mattress?”

“No, I’ll get it.” Caduceus stands and helps her and Colton clear the table, Colton disappearing down the hall to join the others as soon as they’re finished.

“Feel free to come back down,” Constance says, “if you’re too tired, though, they’ll understand.”

“I’ll see what Fjord wants to do,” Caduceus replies, accepting her kiss on the cheek.

“So nice to meet you at last, Fjord,” she says, smiling as she gives him a brief hug. “If you need anything at all, let me or Cornelius know.”

“Thank you, I will. And thank you for your hospitality, I haven’t eaten that well in a long time.”

“We’ll see Caduceus doesn’t let that happen again,” she says, patting him on the cheek gently. “Alright, go on, get some rest.”

Fjord follows Caduceus back upstairs, feeling incredibly warm and full and thinking he could fall asleep immediately if he laid down. He resists the urge to crawl into Caduceus’ bed and do just that when they reenter Caduceus’ room, instead moving to his bag to rummage through it for makeshift pajamas. He hears the bedsprings creak as Caduceus sits on the edge of the mattress. He continues shuffling through his bag for a few more seconds before straightening up empty handed.

“Alright?” Caduceus says, looking as content and drowsy as Fjord feels. Felt.

“Yeah,” Fjord hesitates before shaking his head. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Caduceus says, brow creasing in concern.

Fjord stares back at him for a few moments before turning away, guilt burning up into his throat at having that gentle worry directed at him. He takes a steadying breath.

“I lied to you,” he says at last. “Well, maybe not lied. I didn’t correct your assumption. Vandren... Vandren isn’t my father. 

“I met him when I was ten when we took a school trip to the community pool. He used to be a professional swimmer and was coaching there and he took an interest in me and one of the other kids—in me and Sabian and ended up training us. But he’s not my father. 

“I don’t know who my father is. I grew up in the foster care system. I, um... I probably lived in a dozen different foster homes. And when I wasn’t in one of them I was in a group home. I think the longest I stayed in one was eight months.” He smiles grimly. “No one wants to adopt a half-orc, you know? Vandren helped me get on my feet when I was old enough. Helped me get into college on a scholarship and start swimming professionally. Probably the closest thing to a dad I ever had but... he’s not. I don’t have a family.”

Caduceus is silent for a long time and Fjord is half afraid to look at him for fear of the disapproval or anger he might see.

“Why did you hide it?” he says at last. He doesn’t sound angry, just curious, maybe a little sad.

Fjord breathes out a humorless laugh. “People look at you differently when they hear the word ‘orphan’,” he says. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently, too.”

“I wouldn’t,” Caduceus says quietly. “Won’t.” He sighs. “You’re wrong, though. You have a family,” he says when Fjord frowns at him. “Beau. Molly. Even Vandren. You don’t have to share blood to be family, Fjord.”

“It’s not like what you have,” Fjord says, nodding to the hall door where he can still hear the sound of laughter drifting up the stairs from the living room below. “I wanted that so bad.”

“You can have it, if you want.” Caduceus smiles when Fjord gives him a curious look. “I think my mother would be happy to have you any time. I know it’s not the same, but maybe it’s a start?”

Fjord’s jaw tightens at the sudden burn in his throat, blinking back the blur of his vision.

“I—“ he clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse— “I’d like that.”

Caduceus smiles, that warm, lopsided grin that’s been doing dangerous things to Fjord’s heart rate for weeks. Fjord steels himself and takes a step towards him where he’s seated on the edge of the bed, slouching slightly, his head tilted up towards him. He steps forward again to stand between his legs, close enough now that he’s in Caduceus’ personal space. Close enough that the proximity feels so much more intimate than it did when they were another foot apart. 

Caduceus’ brow furrows in the smallest of curious, hesitant frowns but he doesn’t move away or question him and Fjord feels like he did the first time he stood at the edge of the dock when he was ten, swimming in a cold lake for the first time, staring down into something unknown and, frankly, terrifying, though in an entirely different way. Vandren isn’t there to encourage him this time, to assure him that he has nothing to worry about. Caduceus eyes are soft and kind, though, not inky black and freezing, and Fjord takes a breath and plunges in.

Caduceus’ lips are warm against his own. There’s a shock to his system at the touch, nothing like the icy rush of lake water that makes his whole body seize up, but it still knocks the breath out of him and he has to grip Caduceus’ shoulder when his stomach swoops headily. It’s soft and chaste, though he doesn’t ever recall a kiss like this making him feel so weak-kneed. He’s not sure he’s ever _ had _ a kiss like this.

Caduceus doesn’t pull away. But he doesn’t return the kiss, either, and Fjord breaks away after a few seconds, his stomach sinking so rapidly from the euphoria of seconds before that he feels nauseous.

“Fjord,” Caduceus says gently, looking torn between apologetic and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” Fjord says gruffly, swallowing back the sharp tang of bile in his throat and turning away from him. “I thought...” 

Caduceus stops him with a hand on his wrist. Fjord doesn’t try to withdraw further even though he’d like nothing more than to run from the room and out into the frigid night air and keep running until his body won’t let him. He doesn’t look at him though, doesn’t think he can take another second of sympathy from anyone, much less Caduceus, who’s been so wonderfully unlike everyone else, never pitying him or putting up with his bullshit for a second. He was so sure things had changed, so sure that after everything he _ knew _ Caduceus must feel something back.

“Fjord,” Caduceus repeats more firmly. “It’s not that I don’t—it’s not right, though, Fjord, you know it’s not. You’re my patient.”

“So what?” Fjord says desperately. 

Caduceus sighs and Fjord can practically see the weight of it pulling his shoulders down. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, looking uncomfortable. “You don’t really feel this way about me, you’re just… you’re blurring the lines. It happens sometimes.”

Anger flares up inside Fjord, hot and roiling and spilling out of him like water boiling over.

“You have no idea what I feel,” he snaps, hating the way his voice shakes. “And if you were so fucking concerned about not _ blurring the lines_, why did you invite me here in the first place? Why did you kiss me at the party when you _ knew _ how I felt? You had to know after everything. You said you make friends with your other patients, but did you take them home for Christmas to meet your family?”

Caduceus opens his mouth mutely, looking guilty, and Fjord scoffs and ignores the twist of remorse in his own chest at the way his ears droop sadly. He wrenches his arm out of Caduceus’ grip and storms out of the room, all but slamming the door behind him and taking the stairs two at a time. He ignores the wide-eyed stares of Caduceus’ family as he passes the living room on his way to the front door, pulling it open and yanking it shut behind him as he strides out into the bitingly cold night air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thank you so much for your wonderful comments!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note the rating change!!

He’s barely paying attention to where he’s walking, the only sound his own footsteps on the gravel then concrete and the hard rush of air through his nose with each breath, hurt and anger surging through his blood with each rapid pump of his heart. It’s pitch-dark save the sliver of moonlight and scattered stars, the closest street lamp at the distant corner his feet are automatically carrying him towards. He doesn’t look back to see if Caduceus is following him, but the absence of him calling after him or the sound or additional footsteps tells him plainly enough that he’s not.

Another rush of humiliation and pain twists in his chest and he blinks away furious tears, setting his jaw firmly. The image of Caduceus, head hung and ears drooping, flashes across his brain and guilt bubbles up alongside the mix of emotions already churning dangerously inside of him.

“Dammit,” he mutters, stopping just short of the glow of the street lamp. He rakes his fingers restlessly through his hair, looking back at the silent shadow of the house in the distance. There’s still no sign of anyone following him. He’s not sure if he should be relieved or upset by the fact.

He turns on the spot, shivering as the adrenaline begins to wear off and the chill he’d barely felt before sets into his skin.

“Okay,” he mumbles. He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his lips as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Fuck.”

He continues walking, turning the corner at the streetlight and striding aimlessly down the quiet road, wrapping his arms around himself against the cold and trying to ignore the goosebumps on his skin. The street continues for several blocks before splitting again and he picks a random direction and keeps walking, willing himself to get lost in the maze of houses if only to give himself time to think.

He’s been walking for almost an hour, his teeth chattering and none of the streets familiar, though he’s sure he must have looped back at least once or twice, when he finally stops and looks around at the surrounding houses, dark save the sparse street lights or occasional glow of light from behind closed curtains. Some of the panic has ebbed out of him and he just feels miserable and cold now.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, feeling the automatic swoop and drop of hope and disappointment when he sees a message on his screen that ends up being from Beau, asking how his trip is going so far. He opens it and hits the call button almost without thinking, holding the phone to his ear and listening impatiently to the dull ring.

“Sup,” Beau says by way of greeting when the phone clicks. “Didn’t expect you to call me, man. Oh, shit, did something happen?” She sounds suddenly more attentive, the grin clear in her voice.

“You could say that,” Fjord says with a humorless laugh.

“Oh, shit, what was it?” Beau says eagerly.

Fjord sighs, grimacing. “I… I kissed him.”

“What?!” Beau shouts so loud he has to hold the phone away from his ear, recoiling from the sound.

“Shit, okay. And? What happened?”

“He didn’t…” Fjord sighs again, making a frustrated noise. “He said he can’t. And he said I don’t really feel that way about him, that I’m just… making things up. That I’m confused.” A fresh flood of anger pulses through him again at the thought. 

Beau lets out a breath through her lips.

“Fuck, man,” she mutters. “And what did you tell him? I mean, does he feel the same? It’s not like you’re going to go to physical therapy for the rest of your life. Maybe he’d be open to it after your done.”

“I, uh, I didn’t really ask,” Fjord mumbles abashedly. “I kind of… yelled at him and left.”

“So what, you’re just walking around the suburbs in the dark?” Beau chortles, falling silent when Fjord doesn’t say anything. “Really?”

Fjord makes a noncommittal noise and Beau sighs in irritation. 

“I swear to Christ,” she grumbles. “Do you like this guy?”

“Wh—yes,” Fjord says, frowning. 

“And you think he likes you?”

“I don’t—”

“Does he?”

“I think so,” Fjord says defensively. “But I don’t know!”

“Then go fucking talk to him!” Beau retorts. “Jesus, what are you going to do, walk back to Atlanta? Or just sleep in his house for a week and not talk to him?”

“...I hadn’t thought that far ahead,” Fjord mumbles.

Beau mutters something under her breath he can’t make out but that he thinks might be, “Yeah, no shit, idiot.”

“Go back,” she says firmly, “talk to him. You’re both adults, aren’t you? Contrary to evidence otherwise.”

Fjord scowls.

“You’re never going to fix it if you don’t try,” Beau says, gentler.

“I know,” Fjord sighs. “I know…. Thanks, Beau.”

“Eh, I’m just sick of your whining,” Beau says, though Fjord can hear the grin in her voice.

Fjord bids her goodnight after she forces him to promise to update her, using his phone to find Caduceus’ street again so he can begin making his way back. His fingers and toes are nearly numb by the time he turns up the drive, whole body shivering and teeth chattering loudly as he climbs the front steps. The door is mercifully unlocked and he slips inside, sighing gratefully at the warmth that immediately seeps into his skin.

He toes off his shoes, rubbing his hands over his arms to try and bring back some circulation, pausing when he glances into the living room to see Caduceus sitting alone on the couch in front of the fireplace, clutching a mug of tea and watching him warily.

“Oh,” Fjord says awkwardly, “hey.”

“Hi,” Caduceus says. He eyes Fjord over, still shivering and pale from the cold, and some of the stiffness eases out of his shoulders. He pulls down the woolen throw draped across the back of the couch to toss it onto the armrest opposite him. “Come warm up before you catch a cold.”

Fjord moves sheepishly into the living room, taking the proffered blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders as he sits, leaving a wide gap between himself and Caduceus.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, gripping the edges of the blanket when Caduceus gives him a questioning look. 

Caduceus gives him a small, forced smile before turning back to stare into the crackling fire.

“Are you okay?” he says worriedly, half-glancing at Fjord. “It’s cold out there.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fjord replies even as a sneeze tickles his nose and he buries it into his elbow, sniffing heartily.

“You’re freezing,” Caduceus says, expression concerned as he sets down his tea and moves closer to Fjord, pulling the blanket more firmly around him before rubbing his hands over his biceps to try and help warm him. He stops when he catches Fjord watching him silently, ducking his head and pulling his hands back guiltily.

“Do you want some tea?” he says, shifting back across the couch and scooping up his own mug.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” Caduceus says like he needs to explain himself. “That’s why I didn’t follow you. I knew you were upset.”

“You can say I was an asshole,” Fjord says. “It’s true.”

Caduceus smiles as if he can’t help himself and Fjord feels a wave of relief at the sight.

“You had a right to be upset,” Caduceus says softly, looking down into his mug. “But… maybe you were a little bit of an asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way,” Fjord says. “You… you made it clear before and I guess I just hoped…” He trails off, steeling himself silently.

“You said you wanted it, too,” he says, sparing at sideways glances at Caduceus and watching the way the firelight plays across his face, flickering softly. His hair is loose and falling in a wave across his cheek, slightly damp as if he’s recently showered, and Fjord has to stop himself from reaching out to tuck it behind his ear. “You almost did, at least. Is it true?”

Caduceus is silent for a long minute, expression reflexive. He takes a sip of his tea and sighs.

“It… it is,” he says at last, sounding hesitant. “But, Fjord, you know that I can’t—”

“Why not?” Fjord interjects.

“Because, you are my patient,” Caduceus says calmly, though there’s a degree of distress behind his expression that urges Fjord onward.

“Then I’ll stop _ being _your patient, if that’s what it takes,” he says exasperatedly, starting to feel vaguely desperate. He takes hold of Caduceus’ hand where it’s resting on the couch between them, watching him still with his tea halfway to his lips again. “Please, Caduceus, I’ve got fucking nothing left anymore,” his voice catches in a hopeless sort of laugh and he swallows thickly. “Don’t take this away from me if you want it, too.”

Caduceus looks at him with a combination of disapproval and sadness, lips pursed and brow knitted in a frown.

“That’s not true,” he says with the familiar air of stern kindness that Fjord has come to expect from him. “Fjord, you _ need _ to stop putting your worth in what you can do. You’re so much more than your ability to swim. You’re kind and intelligent and—”

Fjord kisses him.

Caduceus seems somehow more taken aback by this kiss than the first one, looking faintly punch-drunk when Fjord pulls back after a brief press of their lips.

“If you don’t want this,” he says, taking Caduceus’ tea and setting it on the table before shifting closer to him on the couch and resting his hand on his knee, “I’ll stop. But please don’t give me some excuse about what’s _ right _ or act like I don’t know what I want. I’m an adult, Caduceus. And I know exactly what I want.”

Caduceus sighs almost resignedly.

“I _ do _ want this,” he says quietly. “I have for a long time and I’ve felt guilty about it since it first crossed my mind. You don’t understand, Fjord, it’s—doctor-patient relationships aren’t as simple as you think they are. I hold a position of power over you and I _ cannot _abuse that. I can’t take advantage of you.” 

“You’re not taking advantage of me,” Fjord insists, frustrated. He sighs at the conflicted look on Caduceus’ face, the combination of guilt and sadness that he finally understands. 

“I’m only going to be seeing you as a patient for two more weeks,” Fjord says quietly, “and if you want to wait until then, I will if that’s what it takes. But it’ll be for you, not for me. I know what I want, Caduceus, and two weeks isn’t going to change that.” 

He takes both of Caduceus’ hands in his own, squeezing them gently and giving him a reassuring smile.

“Fjord.”

The way he says Fjord’s name, soft and fond, makes his heart leap.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” Caduceus says. “You’re _ absolutely _sure?”

“I haven’t been this sure about something since I started swimming,” Fjord says, nodding.

Caduceus’ smiles, bright and relieved.

“When you tried to kiss me,” he says, smile fading slightly. “Back in my apartment. I wanted to. So badly.” He lets out a small, self-deprecating laugh. “It was probably stupid of me to invite you over like that. I’ve done a lot of stupid things. And I know it’s probably been confusing for you and I’m sorry for that. I’m not… I’m not really experienced with this sort of thing and I thought that as long as I didn’t get too close it would be okay. You’re hard to not get close to, though.”

He pauses, looking at Fjord with the same sort of open expression that he’s used to, though there’s an unfamiliar want behind it that makes his stomach clench in anticipation. “And you’re a very attractive man, Fjord.”

“Is that all you care about?” Fjord teases, grinning.

“You know it’s not,” Caduceus replies. “I felt so guilty touching you, though. Knowing how I felt.”

“Try having the person you’re attracted to touching you for an hour and not being able to do anything about it.”

“If I touch you now, you can do something about it.”

“Then touch me.” 

Caduceus lifts one hand tentatively, fingers unfurling slowly as he reaches towards Fjord like he’s approaching a particularly skittish animal. Fjord doesn’t pull away, has to stop himself from taking Caduceus’ hand and moving it towards him. His fingertips brush across Fjord’s cheek before he settles his hand fully on his jaw. Fjord tilts into the touch immediately, lifting his hand to cup the back of Caduceus’ long fingers, half afraid he’ll withdraw again. He turns his face into the touch and kisses the inside of his wrist, then his palm. 

“I want this,” he murmurs, threading his fingers through Caduceus’ and tilting his hand back so he can let his teeth catch lightly on the thin skin on the inside of his wrist as he kisses the spot again. He catches the faintest smell of soap and woodsmoke on his skin. “Do you want this, Caduceus?”

Caduceus nods and Fjord presses a kiss to the inside of his forearm, keeping his eyes on Caduceus as he does, watching the minute shifts in his expression, the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks, the slight part of his lips. Fjord lets his arm fall back at his side and shifts closer to him on the couch, their legs bumping together. He takes Caduceus’ face in both hands, fingertips brushing lightly over his soft skin. His chest hurts with how badly he wants to kiss him, like his heart has risen in his throat and stopped functioning. 

“I need to kiss you,” he breathes. “I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t.”

Caduceus lets out a nervous laugh that seems to die in his throat. He nods again, more eagerly this time, and Fjord takes it as permission and tilts his chin up to kiss him. It’s chaste and brief, and Fjord exhales shakily against Caduceus’ lips when they pull apart. Caduceus makes a small, needy sound and chases his lips and Fjord feels a surge of emotions well up in his chest, unable to stop himself from smiling as he slots their lips together again. His smile fades as the kiss rapidly turns into something more urgent, like the pent up weeks of longing are spilling out of him all at once. Caduceus kisses him back just as enthusiastically, though, his hands gripping the front of Fjord’s shirt. It’s clumsy, almost frantic, but Fjord couldn’t care less, his fingers trembling as he tangles his hand in Caduceus’ long hair like he’s imagined doing so many times.

He leans back so he’s half laying against the armrest and Caduceus follows him down, bracing his hands on the couch as he does. Fjord slides his arms around his shoulders, groaning softly when Caduceus’ tongue brushes tentatively against his own. His lips are as soft as he’d known they would be and he tastes like tea and honey and Fjord thinks he could drown in that taste.

He can feel the telltale spread of heat in his gut and pushes his hips up with a whine almost automatically, seeking out friction. Caduceus breaks away suddenly with a gasp and a wet smack, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” Fjord mutters, petting his cheek soothingly and resisting the urge to kiss him again, “we don’t have to—”

“No, I want to,” Caduceus whispers. His hair is disheveled, his cheeks flushed and his lips bruised deep pink. “We should go upstairs, though. Someone might come down.”

Fjord shakes his head, whining and kissing along Caduceus jaw, one hand sliding down his stomach to hook in the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Fjord,” Caduceus warns, laughing.

Fjord makes a frustrated, petulant noise but pulls his hand away reluctantly. “Fine,” he grumbles. “Hurry.”

Caduceus sits up and Fjord clamors to his feet, catching himself against the couch when he nearly trips in his haste to stand. He grabs Caduceus’ hand and tugs him up with him and out into the hall, all but running up the stairs, trying simultaneously to be quiet and wincing with each loud creak of the floorboards.

He stubs his toe against the banister when he reaches the landing, hissing out a curse of pain and grabbing the railing to steady himself. He scowls when Caduceus releases a suppressed snort of laughter.

“Shh,” he whispers, holding a finger to his lips even as he stifles another laugh.

“I’m injured,” Fjord grouses, rubbing his foot.

“C’mere,” Caduceus murmurs, tugging on his hand to lead him back the darkened hall and glancing back at him with a coy smile, “I’ll make it better.”

A shiver of anticipation runs up his spine and he hobbles after him, his foot still throbbing, though the pain is quickly wearing off. Caduceus slips into his bedroom and Fjord follows after him, barely shutting the door before making a quiet, shocked noise as Caduceus presses him up against the closed door and kisses him with renewed urgency, Fjord groaning as he eagerly returns the kiss. He slips his arms around him, fisting his hands in his t-shirt and grinding his hips into Caduceus’ thigh, a low, shuddering moan slipping past his lips at the friction.

Caduceus releases a soft, breathy whine that rumbles through his chest and Fjord thinks it might be the sexiest sound he’s ever heard. He presses closer to him, pushing one hand up the back of Caduceus’ shirt, feeling the ridges of his spine under his fingers.

“Bed,” he breathes, taking a step to force Caduceus further into the room. “Bed, now.”

Caduceus nods, stumbling backwards and pulling Fjord with him by his shirt, struggling to keep their lips connected in a kiss that’s more a frantic click of teeth and exchange of hot breath than anything else. Caduceus sits down hard on the edge of the bed and hooks his fingers in Fjord’s belt loops to yank him closer. Fjord lifts one knee onto the bed and takes Caduceus’ head in both hands to tilt it back so he can kiss him again, still hungry and impatient but more deliberate now. 

“Fuck,” Fjord murmurs, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against Caduceus. “God, I want to touch you so bad.”

Caduceus groans and kisses him again. Fjord feels almost dizzy from it, clutching Caduceus’ shoulder to ground himself before pressing a hand to Caduceus’ chest to push him back flat onto the mattress. Caduceus shifts back towards the pillows as Fjord climbs on top of him, straddling his hips and staring down at him with a mix of disbelief and adoration. There’s a band of moonlight coming in through the curtains and slanting silver across his face, catching on his long, pale lashes and the wet gleam of his kiss-bruised lips, his cheeks flushed and his mess of pink hair fanned out on the bed beneath him.

Fjord brushes the backs of his knuckles across his cheek and his chest aches when Caduceus’ eyes drift shut momentarily as he turns into the touch.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Fjord breathes.

Caduceus smiles and lifts his hands to trace his fingers lightly over Fjord’s cheeks and jaw. His thumb grazes over Fjord’s bottom lip and Fjord sighs as a shiver runs down to his toes. Caduceus hooks one hand around the back of Fjord’s neck to pull him down towards him, Fjord giving into the pressure immediately. He keeps his eyes open just long enough to watch Caduceus’ drift shut, groaning softly when their lips connect again in a kiss that’s much slower, more careful than before. The room is full of the quiet, wet sound of their lips pressing together, the gentle sighs and needy whines. It’s like no kiss Fjord has experienced before and he never wants it to stop.

When he can’t stop himself from rutting shallowly against Caduceus’ hip, the bright burn of arousal becoming almost painful, he forces himself to pull away and sit up so he can tug his shirt over his head, trying not to feel self-conscious about the weight he’s gained that he hasn’t worked off yet, the softness at his belly that hides the once leanly toned muscle. Caduceus’ eyes sweep over his newly exposed skin, his hands sliding his over his hips and waist. He doesn’t seem put off by the extra weight, though Fjord has to stop from curling his arms protectively around his middle in embarrassment.

“You are… _ very _ nice to look at,” Caduceus says, eyes fixed on Fjord’s chest, one hand shaping over his pectoral, long fingers trailing down his sternum and past his navel to the obvious bulge in his jeans. He glances up at Fjord before cupping his hand over his erection and squeezing gently.

Fjord groans and pushes his hips into his hand, eyes falling shut automatically at the pressure. The dull, hot ache of arousal pulses low in his groin.

“Please,” he murmurs. “_Fuck_, Caduceus.”

Caduceus fumbles open the button and zipper of his jeans, tugging both them and his boxers down his hips a few inches. He licks his palm and fingers and wraps his hand around Fjord’s cock without hesitation, looking up at Fjord like he’s seeking approval.

“Fuck,” Fjord groans, watching the way his cock slides through the channel of Caduceus’ fist as he rocks his hips up, the contrast of Caduceus’ pale skin against his own. 

Caduceus noses at the underside of his jaw and Fjord tilts his head back, eyes sliding shut when Caduceus mouths at the side of his neck. His broad tongue swipes up the taut line of his throat and Fjord has to bite hard at his bottom lip to keep from moaning. Caduceus slides one hand up the back of his neck, his blunt fingernails scraping through the short hair at the base of his skull, Fjord shivering at the feeling of the touch against the grain of his scalp.

“What do you want me to do?” Caduceus murmurs. “I want to make you feel good, Fjord.”

“Just like that,” Fjord breathes, grunting and shuddering when Caduceus tightens his fingers around him and slides his fist over the length of his cock. “Mm, _ fuck_.”

Caduceus hums into his throat and kisses eagerly across his jawline, using his hand on the back of Fjord’s head to tilt his face back down so he can slot their mouths together again in a kiss. Fjord gropes between them, pressing his palm against the hard line of Caduceus’ erection through his sweatpants, Caduceus groaning lowly into his mouth as he does.

“You too,” Fjord mutters. “Here.” He fumbles with the loose knot on Caduceus’ sweats, tugging it free so he can pull the elastic band and his boxers down over his cock.

“Christ,” he says, laughing in disbelief at the sight of him. “You’re huge.”

Caduceus smiles bashfully, looking embarrassed and perhaps a little self-conscious, and Fjord quickly gives him a reassuring kiss.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs, grazing his lips up Caduceus’ jaw to his ear, “but the first chance I get you to myself, all alone, I want you to fuck me, Caduceus. _ Fuck_, just thinking about how you’d feel.”

Caduceus makes a small, strangled noise and Fjord can’t help but grin. He pulls back to slather his palm and fingers inelegantly with spit before wrapping his hand around both of them, groaning when Caduceus cants his hips up. Fjord rests his forehead against Caduceus’, watching the way the pleasure plays across his features as Fjord begins fucking into his own fist, stroking them both as he does. 

The mattress squeaks quietly under them with each roll of his hips, though he’s careful to keep his movements shallow so as not to make too much noise, regretting now more than ever that he’s not back at his own apartment where they wouldn’t have to worry about it. He wants to spend hours tangled up with Caduceus, tracing every inch of skin with his fingers and lips, see how he reacts when Fjord takes him in his mouth and watch the flush creep down his chest when Fjord fucks him. 

“I can’t wait to do everything with you,” Fjord whispers. He hopes Caduceus’ groan and the way he kisses him means he knows he’s not just talking about sex.

Caduceus’ hand covers his own, his long fingers wrapping fully over the back of Fjord’s, his other hand sliding up the nape of Fjord’s neck. He kisses him desperately between shallow, shaky breaths, his hand moving with Fjord’s between them.

“Fjord,” he breathes after few minutes, his breath catching in a quiet whine.

“Me too,” Fjord murmurs, nodding. “C’mon, baby, I want to see your face.”

Caduceus whimpers softly, his eyelids fluttering open and shut and the movement of his hand becoming uncoordinated before finally stopping entirely, though Fjord continues moving his own hand in quick, jerky strokes.

“Come on,” Fjord mutters encouragingly, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Come for me, Caduceus.”

Caduceus makes a choked sound, his fingernails digging into the back of Fjord’s neck as his lips part in a stuttering gasp. His eyes fall shut and his brow furrows as his cock twitches in Fjord’s hand, warm come splashing and dripping across his fingers and over his own cock.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Fjord groans, watching the thick streaks of come slide over his fingers and smear down his cock as he continues pumping it roughly, the ache of his own orgasm almost painfully close.

Caduceus kisses wetly over his jaw, sloppy in the haze of his orgasm, his breath hot in Fjord’s ear as he murmurs, “You too, Fjord. I want you to feel so good.”

He wraps his fingers around Fjord’s cock again and if only takes a few more seconds until Fjord is coming with a soft grunt buried in Caduceus’ shoulder. Caduceus pets his hand down his back, whispering his name in a gentle, adoring sigh.

Fjord stays there for a few seconds after his orgasm passes, breathing heavily as he savors the closeness. Caduceus lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

“That was—“

“Incredible,” Fjord finishes for him. He lifts his head from Caduceus’ shoulder, pleased to see he’s smiling.

“Something like that,” Caduceus says with another laugh.

Fjord cups his cheek with his clean hand and kisses him, deep and slow, letting his arm slip around Caduceus’ shoulders as he does.

“Ugh,” Caduceus says when they break apart, lifting his hand and grimacing at the tacky come covering his fingers. “Sticky.”

Fjord chuckles, feeling a bright swell of affection for him.

“Let me get a towel,” he says, crawling off Caduceus, careful not to make any messes worse than they already are.

“I’ve got it,” Caduceus says, stopping him from standing with a hand on his thigh. He pauses to give Fjord a single, chaste kiss.

He smiles as he pulls away, staring fondly at him for a moment before standing and moving to the dresser, sweeping his hair over his shoulder as he does. Fjord is taken aback at the sight of a large tattoo between his shoulder blades. 

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” he says, standing to follow Caduceus so he can get a closer look. From a distance it had appeared to be a stylized sun or compass, but up close he can see the shape is made of words or letters in an unfamiliar language.

“Hm?” Caduceus glances over his shoulder at the tattoo, which had been hidden by his hair when they’d gone swimming together. “Oh, yeah. It’s the Paet-thit. It gives protection while traveling. Symbolizes being watched by Buddha I guess is the easiest explanation.”

“It’s pretty,” Fjord says, brushes his fingers lightly over the delicate black lines. “Sorry, is that a language?”

“Thai,” Caduceus responds, passing Fjord a wad of tissues and using another to wipe his hand and stomach clean, “my brother, you’ll meet him tomorrow, he actually lived in Thailand for five years and he invited me to stay one summer and asked one of the monks he knew to give me this.”

“So it’s a Buddhist thing?”

“Not exclusively,” Caduceus says. He grimaces, “But it has been a bit… bastardized by people who get them just because it looks _ interesting_. There’s a lot to the meaning and tradition that’s lost on some people who have them.”

“Like the people who tattoo random Chinese characters on themselves?” Fjord says.

Caduceus chuckles, nodding. “Yeah a bit like that but verging on sacrilegious.”

“Molly has a lot of tattoos,” Fjord says, thinking of the myriad of colorful tattoos over Molly’s arms and chest and back. “I think he just thought they were cool, though.” He pauses. “Do they… hurt?”

“They do,” Caduceus says honestly, “but it was a very important experience for me so it was worth it. This sort of tattoo isn’t given with a tattoo gun, though. They actually have this long sort of rod with a hollow needle at the end and they do it all by hand so it can take a lot longer.”

He laughs at Fjord’s horrified look.

“It wasn’t _ that _ bad,” he assures him.

Fjord hums curiously and brushes his fingers lightly over the dark lines of ink across his pale skin. He pauses when he feels Caduceus watching him, glancing up to see him smiling softly down at him with an almost relieved adoration. He turns to fully face Fjord and cradles his jaw to tilt his face up so he can kiss him, sweet and chaste but still leaving Fjord with that feeling like he’s been punched in the chest.

Caduceus lets out a breath of laughter and Fjord makes a questioning noise in his throat, smiling automatically at the sound.

“It’s just,” Caduceus pulls away just enough to meet his eye, looking sheepish and faintly guilty, “I thought about kissing you a lot, I’m still getting used to actually doing it.”

“You thought about kissing me?” Fjord says, taken aback by the confession. He smirks. “Did you think about doing other things with me?”

Caduceus laughs and Fjord can see the color rising in his cheeks.

“Maybe,” he says evasively, though he’s smiling. 

“When we get back home,” Fjord begins, resting his hands on Caduceus’ hips and stepping into his space. “We’re going on a date. A _ real _ date. I’ll hold your hand and everything. Then afterwards we’re going to my bedroom and we’re not going to leave it for a _ very _ long time.”

Caduceus laughs again, smile softening as he takes both of Fjord’s hands in his own and laces their fingers together, leaning down to kiss him as he does.

“I guess I don’t need to bother with the air mattress?” he murmurs.

Fjord grins. “I think we could probably forget about the pretense of purity,” he says. “Unless you think your parents will be upset.”

“I’m pretty sure my mom thought we were already secretly dating,” Caduceus admits with a sigh.

“Oh?” Fjord says, grin widening as Caduceus moves back to sit on the edge of the bed. “And where would she have gotten that idea?”

“I might have talked about you a little bit,” Caduceus says with a shrug, though Fjord can recognize the flush rise on his cheeks again.

Fjord bites back a smug smirk, instead tugging off his jeans so he’s dressed in just his boxers, savoring the way Caduceus’ eyes roam shamelessly down his chest and legs.

“We should probably get some sleep,” he says, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. 

Caduceus nods, stifling a yawn as he does and shifting aside the blankets so he can crawl underneath, moving to the far side against the wall and watching Fjord expectantly. Fjord shuffles under the covers next to him, smiling when Caduceus’ foot brushes against his own. He slides his hand up Caduceus’ waist and kisses him gently, closing his eyes and resting their foreheads together for a long minute.

“Goodnight, Caduceus,” he murmurs, letting his foot slide up Caduceus’ ankle and hook over his calf so their legs are tangled together under the blankets.

Caduceus sighs contentedly, grazing his knuckles lightly over Fjord’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Fjord.”

He stares at Fjord for a few more seconds before his eyes slide shut tiredly. Fjord lies awake watching him until his breathing turns slow and even and his jaw slackens with sleep after a few minutes. He smiles, brushing the hair back off his face and tucking it behind his ear as he presses a kiss to his forehead. Then he shuts his own eyes, gradually drifting off to the sound of Caduceus’ breathing next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your wonderful comments as always <3
> 
> I think this will end up being 15-16 chapters total; I have 13 finished and 14 plotted. Unless something changes I'm pretty sure 15 will be the final chapter but we'll see :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. I have been absolutely swamped and have had almost no chance to write. I'm not actually quite done with the next chapter but I didn't want to put off posting any more and I will try to get the next chapter finished ASAP. 
> 
> CW this chapter for panic attacks, discussion of addiction, mention of vomit. Please let me know if you would like additional CWs added.

His body wakes him almost on the dot at five am, though he nearly goes back to sleep when he remembers where he is. Caduceus is sprawled out on his back, snoring gently, Fjord’s arm draped across his waist. Fjord props himself up on his elbow, smiling as he watches him sleep, his chest aching fondly. He stops and sits up fully when he realizes Caduceus might find it creepy, along with the fact that Vandren would probably hunt him down if he skipped his run, especially after all he’d eaten the night before.

So he crawls out of bed, shivering a little in the chill as he pulls on his running gear. He leans down to kiss Caduceus’ forehead before he leaves, Caduceus groaning quietly and rolling towards him, his eyes opening blearily.

“Go back to sleep,” Fjord whispers, brushing his hair back. “Just going for my run, I’ll be back soon.”

“M’kay,” Caduceus murmurs groggily, nodding, his eyes already falling shut again. “Be safe.”

“I will.” Fjord presses a kiss to his lips, Caduceus humming and smiling gently as drifts off again.

He slips carefully out of the room, going to the bathroom at the end of the hall and downing his pain medication before heading downstairs and out into the cool morning. He keeps track of where he’s going this time, the streets much more welcoming in the grey pre-dawn light than the night before. He can’t stop himself from smiling every now and then at the thought of Caduceus waiting for him, the fact that he can touch and kiss him and not have to worry about hiding his feelings anymore. He feels incredibly light, and his run passes easily, the sun glaring bright between the trees when he makes his way back to the Clay home, Clarabelle the goat emerging from the small shed she’s tied to and giving him a disinterested look as he climbs the stairs to the house.

Toeing off his shoes at the door, he walks quietly to the kitchen, digging through the cupboards for a glass to fill with water at the sink. He drains it, humming tunelessly as he refills it again.

“Good morning, Fjord.”

He nearly drops the glass, fumbling with it as he chokes on the mouthful of water he’s just inhaled. He turns, still coughing, to see Clarabelle sitting at the table on the other side of the room, apparently unseen when he’d first entered the room. She smirks, leaning back in her chair and looking amused.

“Clarabelle,” he chokes, clearing his throat hard. “I didn’t see you there.”

“I gathered as much,” Clarabelle says, still grinning faintly. “So… you and Cad, huh?”

“What do you mean?” Fjord says quickly. He can feel the heat prickling across his face and the back of his neck, though he tries to keep his expression blank.

Clarabelle arches an eyebrow at him.

“Fjord,” she says flatly, “the bathroom is right next to his room. No offense, but you two aren’t exactly subtle.” She wrinkles her nose and Fjord feels all the color drain out of his face.

“I am… so sorry,” he whispers, horrified.

“It’s okay,” she says with a shrug. “Caddy had to deal with plenty of my girlfriends staying over. I guess I’m just a little surprised, I thought for sure he wasn’t even interested in that sort of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Fjord frowns.

“I mean, he’s never had a boyfriend before,” Clarabelle says. She rolls her eyes heavily. “God, though, he never shut up about you.”

“Really?” Fjord says, perking up.

“Yeah,” Clarabelle replies with a grimace, “we all thought maybe you were just straight or something, we couldn’t figure out why he didn’t just ask you out. But, of course, he was trying to be ‘ethical’ or whatever.” She rolls her eyes again.

“He’s not—he won’t get in trouble or anything, will he?” Fjord says nervously. 

“Dunno,” Clarabelle shrugs, “I guess you’ll both just have to live in sin until you’re not his patient.” She grins and stands, picking up the mug of coffee sitting on the table and heading towards the hall. She pauses at the door and looks back at him shrewdly.

“Just… don’t hurt him, yeah?” she says. “I can tell you really like him and I know he’s crazy about you so…” She trails off, looking uncomfortable.

“I do,” Fjord says, nodding. “I really like him.”

She smiles stiffly, nodding once before disappearing into the hall. Fjord listening to her footsteps going up the stairs before emptying his glass, leaving it in the sink and heading up the stairs himself. Caduceus is still asleep when he enters the room, splayed on his stomach now with his face smushed against the pillow. Fjord can’t stop himself from combing his fingers through his rumpled hair and kissing his temple before he gathers up fresh clothes and heads to the bathroom to shower. 

When he gets back to the room, Caduceus is sitting up in bed, blinking slowly and peering around blearily. His hair is a tangled mess, his shoulders slumped and a smear of dried drool at the corner of his mouth. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, voice rough and groggy.

Fjord sits on the bed next to him and wraps both arms around his middle so he can tug him into a kiss. Caduceus pushes weakly at his chest in protest, groaning grumpily, and Fjord peppers his face with kisses instead, grinning.

“Too chipper,” Caduceus grumbles.

“Of course I’m chipper,” Fjord says, taking his face in both hands and squishing his cheeks together. Caduceus scowls. “I can do this any time I want now.” He kisses the slope of Caduceus’ nose and Caduceus huffs moodily.

“Give me five minutes to wake up,” he says, scrubbing his eyes when Fjord releases his face. “Then you can do it.”

Fjord chuckles but allows him to stand and shuffle into the bathroom, smiling fondly after him. He pulls out his phone and checks his messages while Caduceus is gone, sending a simple thumbs up to his group chat with Beau and Molly and ignoring the explosion of incoming messages when Caduceus returns looking much more put together a few minutes later, the fine fur on his limbs and chest still steaming gently from the shower and his long hair tied up in a towel with another wrapped around his waist.

“Very sexy,” Fjord says, nodding to the towel around his hair.

Caduceus clucks his tongue and begins rooting through his bag for clothes.

“This is the real me, Fjord,” he says, letting the towel drop from around his waist so he can tug on his boxers and jeans. Fjord takes the time to appreciate the long lines of his legs. “The rose-colored glasses come off now.”

Fjord laughs, reaching for his hand and pulling him closer, taking the t-shirt he’s holding and setting it aside.

“If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not going to work,” he says, gripping him by the waist as Caduceus drapes his arms loosely around his shoulders. “Now come here so I can kiss you.”

Caduceus hums, smiling. He tugs the towel off his head, shaking his curtain of damp hair free before giving into Fjord’s pulling at his waist and climbing into his lap on the bed. He kisses Fjord with a soft groan, huffing out a laugh when Fjord falls back onto the bed, pulling him with him. Fjord rolls them both over, still kissing him lazily as he settles between Caduceus’ open thighs. He’s just beginning to wonder if they can sneak in a few minutes of making out before anyone comes looking for them when the door to Caduceus’ room bangs open.

“Ugh, really?”

Fjord snaps his head around so quickly he nearly gets a crick in his neck, clambering off Caduceus and across the bed at the sight of Clarabelle in the doorway, looking disgusted.

“Could you knock?” Caduceus snaps, glowering at her as he sits up.

“Delia’s in labor,” Clarabelle says, “I think that’s a little more important than you shoving your tongue down your boyfriend’s throat.”

Caduceus pales, eyes widening.

“Really?” he says, already standing and tugging his t-shirt on. “How is she? Where’s she at?”

“Mom said her water broke earlier and she’s measuring contractions now, sent me to get you.” She leans against the doorframe, watching Caduceus tie his hair up in a knot. 

He hurries back to Fjord, gripping his shoulder. “I need to go help, is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course, go,” Fjord says, pushing him back towards the door. “Can I help at all?”

“Just stay clear for now,” Caduceus says, “if we need you I’ll call.” He captures Fjord’s lips in a quick kiss before rushing past Clarabelle into the hall.

Fjord clears his throat awkwardly when Clarabelle doesn’t leave, shifting on the spot.

“Wanna watch a movie?” she says, nodding back down the hall.

“Aren’t you going, too?”

“Fuck no, I’m not a doctor,” Clarabelle scoffs. “Dad and Cadence are picking up Cas at the airport so Colton and I are gonna watch a movie if you wanna join.”

“Caduceus isn’t that kind of doctor though, he is?” Fjord says, frowning.

“He was actually going to be a nurse for awhile,” Clarabelle says with a shrug. “Ended up switching to physical therapy. He’s the second most qualified here, though.”

“Aren’t they going to the hospital?”

“Nah, she wants to have it here, the weirdo.” She wrinkles her nose. “But, I guess that’s what mom did and it worked for all of us.” She shrugs. “Anyway, you coming or not?”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Fjord grabs his phone and follows her downstairs, both of them grimacing at the wail of pain from behind Cordelia’s door.

They hole up in the living room with Colton, wrapped in blankets and sharing a giant bowl of popcorn as they make their way through several old Christmas movies, Clarabelle occasionally jogging up the stairs with a cup of ice when Constance calls down for it. An unfamiliar woman Fjord assumes is the doula shows up partway through the first movie, hurrying upstairs when Clarabelle and Colton point her in that direction.

Fjord is surprised how easy it is to talk to the two of them, the initial awkwardness quickly gone as they both share stories of growing up in the house, many of which feature Caduceus. He thinks they’re trying to poke fun at their brother but all the stories do is make him fall even harder, thinking of a young, pudgy Caduceus catching bugs and chasing his sisters around the yard clutching a fat toad. He feels the same sense of being welcomed as he did the night before, folded so easily into the Clays that he thinks he could see himself coming back here for every holiday. He’s surprised how little the thought scares him. 

They’re halfway through their third movie when Cornelius and Cadence return with Caduceus’ brother Cassian, who’s tall and thin like Caduceus, though his head is completely shaved. He gives Fjord a curious look when they’re introduced, almost wary, though he smiles and shakes his hand before heading upstairs to put away his bag. They’ve barely settled back down to continue the movie before they hear rapid footsteps coming down the stairs and Caduceus appears at the doorway, grinning broadly and wearing a blood-smeared smock over his clothes.

“He’s here,” he says, nodding his head towards the stairs. “Alright, one at a time, let them breathe,” he says as the others let out shouts of excitement and push past him up the stairs. “And wash your hands!” he calls after them.

He sighs and tugs the smock off, balling it up before moving towards the couch and collapsing onto it next to Fjord, head tilted back and eyes closed. He looks exhausted but pleased.

“Everyone okay?” Fjord says cautiously.

“Mm, they’re good,” he says, nodding. “Here.”

He pulls out his phone and shows Fjord a picture of Cordelia and her husband beaming and clutching a bundle of blankets with a tiny blue-grey face and hands poking from them.

“Cute,” Fjord says, smiling as Caduceus pockets his phone again. He slips one arm around Fjord’s shoulders and pulls him against his side to kiss his temple in a gesture that feels wonderfully domestic.

“You can go see him in a few if you want,” he says tiredly. “When everyone else has had their turn.”

“Maybe later,” Fjord says, content to lean against Caduceus’ side for now.

“Sorry about that, by the way,” Caduceus says, “I didn’t mean to abandon you for half the day.”

“Don’t apologize. I spent the time with your sisters anyway.”

“Oh?” Caduceus says suspiciously, cracking one eye open.

“Mm, they told me all your embarrassing secrets,” Fjord mumbles, starting to feel drowsy cuddled against Caduceus the way he is.

“They wouldn’t do that because I know all of theirs,” Caduceus counters. He squeezes Fjord’s shoulder gently. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little stiff,” he says with a shrug. “I do need to do my exercises still, though.”

“You’re slacking,” Caduceus says in a lightly scolding tone. “I don’t remember you doing them last night, either.”

“Yeah, well I was a little distracted with a different kind of exercise,” Fjord retorts, prodding him in side and smiling when he flinches away with a chuckle.

“I’ll help you,” Caduceus says, yawning. “I’ll even rub your shoulder if you want.”

Fjord makes a soft, interested noise, leaning further into his side as they fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound the low chatter drifting from upstairs and the warm crackle of the fireplace. He reaches for Caduceus’ hand where it’s resting in his lap and slips his fingers between his own, smiling when Caduceus squeezes his hand.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” Fjord says quietly. “I know I seemed a little pushy yesterday. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or feel rushed into this. I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you into anything.”

“You’re not,” Caduceus says. “I want this, too, Fjord. I want to be with you. I just wanted to make sure that’s what you really wanted.”

“It is,” Fjord replies. He looks up at him, feeling that familiar ache of affection in his chest. “I’ve never been in love, Caduceus, but… I think I could fall in love with you. I think I am.”

Caduceus’ eyes widen slightly, his breath catching in his throat in a wordless sound of surprise.

“I know that’s a lot,” Fjord says hastily. “And you don’t have to do anything with it. But I mean it.”

Caduceus nods mutely, his eyes overbright.

“Me too,” he says. He smiles and kisses Fjord, firm and closed-mouth, before settling back against the couch again, squeezing his arm around Fjord’s shoulders. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” Caduceus says after a few minutes’ easy silence. “Things have probably started to calm down.”

“Sure,” Fjord stands, stretching. He smiles when Caduceus takes his hand like it’s second nature before leading him upstairs. He scrubs his hands thoroughly in the bathroom before heading towards Cordelia’s room, the door slightly ajar and excited talk and laughter filtering out into the hall. Caduceus pushes the door in slightly and Constance ushers them both in, smiling broadly.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?” Fjord mutters to her as Caduceus moves through the crowded space to accept the bundle of blankets from Colton with an adoring smile.

“Of course, dear,” she says, patting him gently on the arm. 

“Do you want to hold him?” Caduceus says as he moves back towards them carefully.

“I don’t want to drop him,” Fjord says warily.

Caduceus chuckles. “You won’t,” he says. “Here. Just hold his head.” He gently deposits the bundle of blankets into Fjord’s arms, showing him how to cradle the baby’s head in the crook of his arm.

“He so light,” Fjord mutters, peering down at the scrunched, blue-grey face poking from the blankets, the wide, dark eyes blinking up at him over a wet, pink nose. Large, floppy ears frame his face. “What’s his name?”

“Cyrus,” Caduceus replies, smiling as Fjord brushes one finger over the baby’s tiny, clenched fist, which opens and closes firmly around his knuckle.

“God, he’s so tiny,” Fjord says, huffing out a laugh as the baby squirms, grunting quietly and tugging his hand against his chest.

“I think he likes you,” Caduceus says, nudging his side and smiling.

Cyrus yawns hugely, squirming again and releasing Fjord’s finger to open and close his fists as he nudges his face into Fjord’s chest.

“Ah,” Caduceus says, laughing, “I think he’s hungry. C’mere, pal, you’re not getting anything there.” He takes the baby back carefully to carry back to his sister, urging the others out with the help of his mother.

They all retreat to the kitchen, crowding around the table and eating a makeshift lunch, Fjord listening to them all talk excitedly with that same feeling of welcomed warmth, Caduceus’ hand resting on his leg under the table, his thumb rubbing absently over his knee. He feels at home.

* * *

He spends the rest of the week lazing around the Clay house with the rest of them, guiltily consuming more of Constance’s cooking at every meal and trying not to think of what Vandren will do when he sees he’s likely gained weight instead of lost it. He runs every morning, making Caduceus help him through his stretches and at least some of a workout to try and assuage some of his guilt. Christmas morning Caduceus gives him a simple woven bracelet that loops around a small, silver anchor charm that Fjord wraps around his wrist immediately before giving him the forest green kettle he’s kept wrapped at the bottom of his bag since they arrived. 

They play countless board games and watch movies, at one point piling into Caduceus’ car with Clarabelle and Colton to spend the day after Christmas wandering around a packed mall before returning home where Fjord plays football with Clarabelle, Cassian, and Cadence while Caduceus watches from the sideline, looking torn between worrying and cheering him on. 

And after he and Caduceus have retreated to his room each night, they end up tangled up together on the bed, kissing and rutting against each other like teenagers, occasionally getting each other off but mostly savoring the fleeting moments of privacy. It all feels so wonderfully domestic in a way he’s woefully unfamiliar with.

He packs his bag reluctantly that Friday evening for when he and Caduceus are leaving the next morning, trying not to think about how much he’s going to miss that homey feeling of it all. He’s on his way to the bathroom to gather the rest of his things that have somehow spread themselves between there and Caduceus’ room when he almost runs into Cassian, who stops short just as Fjord is stepping out into the hall with his things bundled in his arms.

“Oh, sorry,” Fjord mutters, shuffling past him so he can enter the bathroom. He pauses when he sees a flash of metal in Cassian’s hand, eyes widening when he realizes he’s clutching a capped syringe.

“Thanks,” Cassian mutters, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving Fjord staring at the blank, white wood.

He heads back to Caduceus’ room, dropping his things into his bag and leaning against the dresser.

“You okay?” Caduceus says from his position on the bed, flipping through his phone absently. “You look weird.”

“Um,” Fjord hesitates, wavering on whether or not he should tell Caduceus what he’d seen. “I, um, I just saw Cassian.”

“Okay,” Caduceus says, frowning in confusion. “And?”

“He had a, um… he had a needle. Like a syringe.” He waits nervously for Caduceus’ reaction, watching his frown deepen slightly before a look of understanding crosses his face.

“Oh, no, it’s not what you’re thinking,” Caduceus says with a hard shake of his head. “Cas is, hmm… I’m not sure if it’s really my right to tell you. It’s not drugs though, I promise.”

Fjord frowns at him. Then something slots into place in his brain as he thinks back to the wary look Cassian had given him when they’d first met.

“Oh,” he says slowly, nodding. “Right. Got it.”

Caduceus smiles, looking relieved by his reaction before going back to his phone. Fjord finishes forcing his things into his bag, which somehow seems smaller than it had been when he’d packed it the first time. When he’s finally managed to zip it shut, he flops on the bed next to Caduceus, who hums and pets his fingers through his hair once without looking up from his phone.

“So, I know you’re probably sick of me,” Fjord begins. Caduceus chuckles softly. “But are you busy Sunday?”

“Mm, don’t think so, why?” Caduceus sets his phone down to look at him.

“Do you want to… come over?” Fjord says, watching his expression closely. “We could have dinner and you could spend the night. If you want.”

Caduceus raises an eyebrow, smiling faintly.

“Very forward of you to think I’ll put out on the first date,” he says. He picks his phone up again, still grinning, and shrugs. “Sure. That sounds fun.”

Fjord doesn’t bother trying to hide his pleased smile.

They leave the following morning after both receiving crushing hugs from the rest of the Clays, Constance circling back to give Fjord a second hug right before he walks out the door and telling him that he’s welcome back any time. Fjord assures her he fully intends to take her up on the offer before shouldering his bag and following Caduceus out the door. Several of them wave them off from the doorway as they pull out and Fjord can’t help but smile as he waves back before settling into his seat.

“You can come with me,” Caduceus says when they’re pulling out onto the main road, “the next time I visit. If you want.”

He glances over at Fjord briefly, looking hesitant, and Fjord nods, reaching across the console to rest his hand on his knee. His heart feels full to bursting with affection.

Sunday morning, he heads to the store to buy everything he expects, and hopes, to need that evening, feeling almost anxiously giddy as he heads back to his apartment clutching the plastic bags in his arms. He’d spent half of Saturday evening planning the night, booking a reservation at a nearby restaurant and closely watching the weather to ensure his planned walk through the park afterwards won’t be ruined. He’s practically floating when he reaches the landing to his apartment, though his mood drops so quickly his head spins when he sees the door already ajar.

He shifts his shopping bags to one hand and steps slowly towards the door, trying to peer through the small crack and swearing when he can’t see anything inside. He considers calling the police, wavering indecisively. But the lock is intact and he remembers clearly locking the door before he left and wonders if perhaps Beau or Vandren had used their spare key to get inside for some reason. 

Grimacing, he toes the door open and pokes his head inside, straining his ears for movement and taking a single step inside when he hears none. He jumps and drops his bags at his feet when there’s a sudden clatter in the kitchen, reaching instinctively for his phone in his pocket.

“Who’s there?” he shouts, trying to make himself sound as intimidating as possible even as his heart pounds anxiously. “Beau? Vandren?”

There’s a pause in the noise from the kitchen, followed by the clack of footsteps on the tiled floor as whoever it is walks towards the living room. They emerge from the doorway and Fjord’s fingers tighten around his phone as his fear is immediately replaced by white-hot anger.

“Hello, Fjord.”

“Avantika,” he snarls furiously, “what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

She smiles almost pityingly and Fjord almost has to steady himself with the dizzying rush of rage and disgust he feels. Her long, red hair is pulled back in a ponytail, the high-collar of her coat brushing her jaw.

“Fjord,” she says, flashing her white teeth in a wide smile that sets Fjord’s nerves on edge. “We have not seen each other in over a year and this is how you treat me?”

“I’ll ask one more time and then I’m calling the cops,” Fjord snaps. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

Avantika sighs heavily, folding her arms across her chest and looking somewhere between bored and annoyed, as if Fjord has interrupted her in the middle of something important.

“I was in the area and visiting Vandren,” she says airily, waving her hand dismissively. “And he told me about your horrible accident,” she clucks her tongue sympathetically. “He loaned me his spare key when I said I wanted to check in on you. I was worried about you, Fjord. He said you have not been yourself, lately.”

“Fuck you,” Fjord bites out. “You don’t give two shits about me or Vandren. Get out of my house.”

Avantika narrows her eyes almost imperceptibly before a sly sort of smile spreads across her face.

“Now, Fjord,” she says, walking towards him, “I know we have had our differences—”

“You _ stole _ from me,” Fjord says over her, struggling to keep his voice level. “Made me think you cared about me so you could take all my shit to fuel your fucking drug habit.”

“Fjord, I’ve changed since then,” Avantika says emphatically, “I’ve gotten better.” She stops in front of him and lays one hand lightly on his collarbone. “I do miss you, Fjord. Why don’t we talk, hm? For old time’s sake?”

Fjord almost laughs, clenching his teeth and shaking his head.

“I’m with someone who actually _ does _give a shit now,” he says. “So, I’m gonna have to turn down the offer.”

Her expression goes from placating to cold, nostrils flaring slightly as she grins, glancing down at the bags at his feet, the contents of which have spilled across the tile.

“Candles and wine?” she says scathingly. She bends down to pick up the box of condoms he’d bought and arches an eyebrow. “My, they must be special.”

She presses the box into his hands and pats him lightly on the cheek.

“Well, have fun,” she says, giving him a wide, cold smile. “I’m here for two more days if you change your mind.”

“Not in a million fucking years,” Fjord mutters as she shoulders past him into the hall, her heeled boots loud on the stairs as she leaves.

He exhales shakily when he can no longer hear her footsteps, shutting the door and locking it firmly behind him before leaning up against it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep, bracing breath to try and ease the wave of nausea and dread rushing through him.

Swallowing dryly, he straightens himself up onto his trembling legs, walking shaking back towards the bedroom as his shoulder aches dully and he realizes he hasn’t taken his medication since the night before. He glances into the kitchen as he passes it, scanning to see if anything is missing or out of place, though it seems to be in order apart from a few open cupboards. He wonders if he’d interrupted her in the process of trying to find something to steal. The thought sends another hot thread of fury through him.

He heads to the bedroom, opening the top door to his dresser and digging under his clothes for the bottle of painkillers, wincing at the suddenly unbearable pain in his shoulder. He freezes when his fingers scrape empty over the bottom of the drawer. Panic rises so rapidly in his throat his vision blurs. He shoves aside his clothes, eyes darting across the bottom of the drawer, heart racing and throat closing up with fear. He throws the contents of the drawer onto the floor, releasing a dismayed, frantic sound when he runs his hands over the inside of the drawer even though he can see its empty. 

He drops to his knees and tears through the rumpled clothes, swearing under his breath when the bottle isn’t there. Leaping to his feet, he sprints out the bedroom to the living room and out of his apartment, almost tripping in his haste down the stairs. He wrenches the door to the outside open and spins on the spot, looking around desperately for any sign of Avantika’s long coat. He stands there helplessly, breathing heavily and close to panicked tears, for a full three minutes before hurrying back inside.

He searches every inch of his apartment, ripping his clothes out of the dresser and upturning trashcans even though he knows he’s not going to find the little orange and white bottle. His chest hurts, his palms slick with sweat and his breath coming so rapidly he feels like he’s close to hyperventilating. There’s a high whine in his ears that’s so loud it hurts his teeth. His shoulder feels like it’s on fire.

He’s on his third time searching the apartment when he hears the front door open from where he’s pulling cups from the cupboard to look behind them.

“Fjord?”

He pales at Caduceus’ voice, warm and curious.

“Fjord?” he sounds more concerned now and Fjord realizes he never cleaned up the bags spilled by the front door.

He hears Caduceus’ approaching footsteps and seizes, half-tempted to run. Before he can get his muscles to respond, though Caduceus is in the doorway, frowning faintly with worry. His eyes widen as soon as they land on Fjord.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong?” he says, letting the bag slung over his shoulder drop to the floor so he can hurry to Fjord’s side. He grips him firmly by both shoulders, eyes darting over his face, his pallid, sweaty skin and drawn features.

“She took them,” Fjord croaks.

“Who?” Caduceus says, now taking his face in one hand and peering closely into his eyes. “Who took what?”

“Avantika,” Fjord says, shaking his head and blinking as his vision swims. 

“Fjord,” Caduceus says, tone suddenly serious, his fingers tightening around Fjord’s chin. “I need you to tell me if you’ve taken anything.”

Fjord laughs, though it comes out more like a sob, and shakes his head again. 

“I can’t,” he says, “she took them.”

“Took what?” Caduceus says in the same stern, fretful tone. “What have you been taking?”

“Just… just my medication.”

“What _ kind_?” Caduceus says. “Fjord, please, I need to know right now.”

“It’s uh…” Fjord racks his brain, trying to fight through the haze of panic and pain. “Oxy.”

Caduceus’ face falls into an expression of horror and distress Fjord has never seen on him before.

“She took them and I need them,” Fjord says, panic clawing up his throat again.

“Oh, Fjord,” Caduceus mutters, voice cracking as he says Fjord’s name. He pushes Fjord’s hair back of his sweaty forehead, cradling his face with his other hand. 

“How long has it been?” he says, eyes overbright as he lifts one of Fjord’s eyelids and stares at his pupil, Fjord wincing away from the harsh light of the kitchen which suddenly makes his head pound. “Since you took them?”

“Um, since last night,” Fjord says. He can feel the adrenaline starting to wear off, though the underlying panic is still roiling just below the surface.

“Have you thrown up at all?” Caduceus says. “Any nausea or stomach pain?”

“No,” Fjord shakes his head. “Sort of.”

“We need to take you to the hospital,” Caduceus says seriously. “You’re going through withdrawal and it could get very bad.”

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Fjord says darkly. “I’m not going to get judged by a bunch of strangers.” He laughs humorlessly, feeling the sudden burn of tears in his throat and eyes. “Orphaned failure and now an addict, what a fucking joke.”

“Stop,” Caduceus says, firm but gentle. He sighs resignedly. “I can't force you to go. But if it gets bad, I’m taking you and you can be mad at me later. In the meantime, we’re going to lie down and wait this out. It’s not going to be fun, though,” he adds with another sigh.

“Wh… what do you mean?” Fjord says, giving into the pressure on the small of his back as Caduceus begins leading him towards the bedroom. 

“I mean you’re probably going to throw up a lot,” Caduceus says with a grimace, “and have a bad stomachache for awhile.”

“No,” Fjord says, stopping just inside the bedroom. “I mean… you’re staying?”

“Of course I’m staying,” Caduceus says without missing a beat, leading him towards the bed and lowering him to sit on the edge. “You think for one second I’d just leave you alone in this condition?”

Fjord stares at him with mingled disbelief and gratitude. He grips the front of Caduceus’ sweater and buries his face in his stomach, unable to stop the sudden rush of panicked tears that hits him as he does. Caduceus’ arms wrap around him, warm and grounding, and Fjord barely hears him shush him quietly, soothing as he lets one hand comb through Fjord’s hair. Fjord cries almost silently into his sweater, shuddering and clinging to him like a lifeline, breathing in the familiar smell of him like a balm.

His stomach churns suddenly and the bright, sour taste of bile rising in the back of his throat. Clapping a hand to his mouth, he ducks out from under Caduceus’ arm and stumbles towards the bathroom. He barely manages to make it to the toilet before he’s retching violently, grimacing at the sharp taste of stomach acid and the sick splatter of vomit in the toilet bowl. His stomach heaves and he retches again, barely anything coming up, his stomach already nearly empty from how little he’s eaten that day out of sheer nerves.

He’s still dry-heaving when he feels Caduceus' presence at his side, glancing up blearily to see him kneeling next to him, looking concerned and so horribly sad it makes Fjord’s chest ache with guilt. He heaves weakly again even though there’s nothing left in him, sobbing miserably as his stomach contracts and he gags painfully.

“It’s okay,” Caduceus says gently, rubbing his hand up and down Fjord’s back. “Get it all out. It’s okay.”

Fjords stomach churns and convulses once more before stopping altogether. He waits another twenty seconds, gripping the toilet bowl and leaning over it, trembling weakly, before he allows himself to collapse heavily into a slumped pile on the floor. A sudden surge of exhaustion hits him so hard his eyes droop, all the energy seeping out of his limbs. He wipes the back of his hand over his lips, grimacing at the taste in his mouth.

“Come here,” Caduceus says softly, reaching for him and guiding him into his lap so he can hug him against his chest.

“Shitty first date,” Fjord mutters. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Caduceus.” His voice breaks painfully and he swallows hard.

“Don’t apologize,” Caduceus says, easing Fjord’s head to rest on his shoulder. “We need to worry about getting you through this now, okay?”

Fjord nods mutely, lifting his head when Caduceus touches lightly under his chin. He smiles at him, strained with sadness but still as genuine as always. He cards his fingers through Fjord’s hair and Fjord angles his head into the touch.

“Mm, don’t,” Fjord mutters, pulling a face, when Caduceus tries to kiss him, “‘m’disgusting.” He can still taste vomit on his own tongue.

Caduceus hums quietly, smiling, and kisses him anyway, brief and chaste at the corner of his mouth, and Fjord feels such a rush of affection for him he thinks he might cry again. He brushes the loose hair back off Fjord’s sweaty forehead with a soft look of concern. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Shitty,” Fjord replies honestly. 

“We can go to the hospital still,” Caduceus offers, his fingernails now scratching lightly over Fjord’s scalp in a way that’s almost hypnotic. He can feel his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. 

“No,” he mumbles, shaking his head and allowing himself to lean heavily against Caduceus’ chest. “No, I’ll be okay. Just... don’t leave?” He says it despite Caduceus already agreeing to stay, something in the back of his mind fearful.

“Of course not,” Caduceus says. He smiles and presses a kiss to the top of Fjord’s head before tucking him under his chin, his fingers still tracing slow lines over his skull and the nape of his neck.

Fjord lets his eyes fall shut, listening to the steady sound of Caduceus’ breathing, his chest rising and falling slowly against his cheek.

_ I’m in love with him_.

It’s the last thought that crosses his exhausted brain before sleep overtakes him.


	14. Chapter 14

He wakes to a horrible, cramping pain in his stomach some time in the middle of the night, barely registering that he’s been moved to his bed before rushing to the bathroom to retch painfully, nothing but stomach acid coming up as he clutches the rim of the toilet and whimpers miserably. His mouth is achingly dry and he stands on unsteady feet to wash his hands and brush the taste of vomit from his teeth before sticking his mouth directly under the faucet to gulp down several mouthfuls of water. 

Wiping his hand across his mouth, he looks up at his reflection, wincing at the pale, strained look to his skin, the dark bags under his eyes and thin sheen of sweat across his forehead. He shivers, suddenly cold, and shuffles back to his bedroom, stopping a few feet from his bed when he realizes it’s not empty.

Caduceus is propped up in a sitting position next to where he’d been sleeping, his head lolled to one side as he dozes, snoring quietly. There’s a bottle of water in one hand and a towel in the other, an empty bowl in his lap that Fjord assumes he’d gotten in case he got sick again. They sight makes his throat burn and squeeze painfully and he crawls carefully back under the sheet next to him. He shifts the bowl and bottle aside so he can curl against his side, wrapping one arm around his middle and pressing his face into his hip.

“Thank you,” he mumbles. His stomach still hurts like someone is running hot knives through it and his head is pounding so hard he’s not sure if it’s that or his stomach making him nauseous, but the fact that Caduceus is still there, that he hasn’t run away from him, makes it feel more bearable. He squeezes him around the middle again, smiling when Caduceus mutters something in his sleep.

“I love you,” he murmurs. And then exhaustion wins out again and he drops back to sleep.

When he wakes up again he’s alone in bed. The sheet are tangled around his waist, light streaming through the curtains and making him squint and recoil as his head throbs like it’s been split in two. He can hear movement in the kitchen and forces himself into a propped position against the pillows.

“Caduceus?” he croaks feebly, his throat dry and scratchy.

There’s a sudden clatter of dishware followed by quick footsteps and then Caduceus is standing in the doorway, looking equal parts relieved and concerned.

“Hey,” he says, moving to Fjord’s side and picking the unopened bottle of water from the end table to pass to him. He presses the inside of his wrist to Fjord’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

Fjord laughs weakly, making a frustrated noise when he can’t get the bottle open, his hand trembling and weak. Caduceus takes pity and opens it for him, watching him closely as he swallows down some of it.

“Are you feeling up to eating?” Caduceus says, sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. He begins rubbing one hand up and down Fjord’s back and Fjord has to fight the urge to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

“Mm, maybe,” he mumbles, shrugging. He winces when his shoulder throbs.

“Just some toast and tea,” Caduceus says, now pushing Fjord’s limp and rumpled hair off his face. He can’t imagine how unappealing he must look right now.

“Alright,” Fjord agrees, nodding. “I’ll give it a shot. I need to shower. I feel gross.”

“Take your time,” Caduceus says. He presses a kiss to Fjord’s temple. “Let me know if you need anything.” 

He stands to leave and Fjord stops him, taking hold of his hand. Caduceus looks back at him curiously.

Fjord swallows painfully at the sudden thickness in his throat, his vision blurring slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs, slipping his arms under Caduceus’ and around his waist to hug him tightly, his face buried in his chest. “I don’t deserve everything you’ve done for me.”

“Hush,” Caduceus says gently, stroking his fingers through Fjord’s hair. “That’s a silly way to talk and you know it.”

Fjord sniffs and rests his cheek against Caduceus’ shirt, closing his eyes and savoring the cool fabric on his skin.

“I love you,” he says, squeezing his arms more tightly around him before relaxing again. 

He feels Caduceus’ hand in his hair still for just a moment before it resumes its slow movements.

“I love you, too,” he says and kisses the top of Fjord’s head. “Now go get a shower, it’ll make you feel better. I’ll have breakfast for you when you come out.”

Fjord nods, though he doesn’t let go for a few more seconds, hugging him firmly once more before allowing Caduceus to help him to his feet so he can head to the bathroom unsteadily. 

The shower helps. If nothing else, he doesn’t feel nearly as grimy as he had before. His head still pounds dully and his stomach churns every now and then but he manages not to throw up again in the time he spends soaking under the hot spray of water. A cloud of steam follows him out when he leaves the bathroom and he shivers at the coolness of the air on his skin, hurrying to pull on a sweater and sweatpants before shuffling out to the kitchen.

Caduceus is pulling two pieces of toast from the toaster when he enters, two mugs of tea steeping on the counter.

“I didn’t expect you to have tea,” he says, sounding pleased as he plates the toast.

“Oh, yeah, I, um... I got it in case you ever came over,” Fjord mumbles, leaning against the counter and rubbing his hands over his arms absently.

Caduceus pauses in the act of buttering the toast to give him a soft, touched sort of smile.

“Come on,” he says, scooping up the two mugs and balancing the plate in the crook of his arm. “You need to get something in your stomach. And I think we need to talk.”

Fjord nods, slumping dejectedly. He curls up at the end of the couch, munching tentatively at one of the pieces of toast as Caduceus sits next to him.

“Feeling any better?” he says, resting one hand on Fjord’s knee, like he needs to touch him and ensure he’s still there and solid. Or maybe to assure Fjord that _ he _ is.

“Not really,” Fjord replies honestly. He sighs heavily, scrubbing one hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—I should have realized what was happening. I can’t believe I fucked up this badly.”

“Stop,” Caduceus says firmly, “regretting it isn’t going to fix anything. And you can’t just blame yourself for this. It can happen to anyone, Fjord. It might not be the best circumstances but we’ll get through this. _ You’ll _ get through this. What we need to talk about now is where you want to go from here.”

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to go,” Fjord laughs miserably.

“Well, for starters,” Caduceus begins, “I know you said you won’t go to the hospital, but I really think you should join a group. They help and you’ll get to be around other people going through the same thing,” he adds when Fjord’s brow furrows in distaste. “I’ll do everything I can, Fjord, but I can’t provide that perspective.”

“I don’t need it,” Fjord mutters, “they’re gone and I’m not getting any more, the prescription is empty. Once it’s out of my system, I’m done with it.”

“Fjord, you know that’s not how this works,” Caduceus says gently. “This is something you’re going to be fighting the rest of your life. Maybe not all the time but I want to make sure you’re equipped to do it.” He pauses, thumb brushing absent circles over Fjord’s knee. “I love you, Fjord. And I want to see you take care of yourself.”

He gives Fjord a concerned, almost pleading look, and Fjord sighs.

“Alright,” he says, nodding. “I’ll… look into it.”

“I’ll help,” Caduceus says, “if you want.”

Fjord nods again and Caduceus smiles.

“The second thing,” Caduceus begins, looking more hesitant now. “And this is completely up to you. It’s important for you to have a support system right now. And I don’t know who you want to tell about this but I’ll do everything I can to be that for you. So, I was thinking, if you’d like, you could… come stay with me for a few weeks. Just until things start to get better, at least. I won’t be home all the time but you’ll be closer to my office and I can be with you in the evenings and weekends. It’s probably better if you’re with someone, especially for the first week or so. But I understand if that’s too much,” he adds hastily.

“No,” Fjord says, shaking his head, “no, it’s not too much. I’d like that.” Caduceus smiles again and Fjord feels guilt eating away at his gut. “I’m sorry I ruined our first date.”

“There’s plenty of chances for more,” Caduceus says, lifting Fjord’s hand from his lap to press a kiss to his fingers, giving him a bright, adoring smile that makes Fjord’s stomach flip happily even as the guilt rises up in his throat.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he says, shaking his head and swallowing down the thick lump in his throat. “You shouldn’t—you never asked for all of this.”

“Fjord,” Caduceus lifts his hand from Fjord’s knee to brush away the errant tear sliding down his cheek, “I’m not going to disappear if things get rough. I would hope you’d stick with me, too, if it ever came to it.”

“Of course,” Fjord says emphatically. “I just… I feel like a liability now. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back if I want to stop with you,” Caduceus says.

Fjord huffs out a laugh. “You’re good at that, you know. Just… knowing what to say when I need to hear it,” he adds when Caduceus gives him a questioning look.

Caduceus chuckles. “Clara says it makes me sound like a book of inspirational quotes,” he says, “I don’t think it’s meant to be a compliment.”

Fjord smiles. He wipes his fingers under his eyes before setting the empty plate aside and unwinding himself from the ball he’s curled into so he can settle against Caduceus’ side instead. Caduceus wraps one arm around his shoulders securely.

“You’re going to be okay,” he murmurs, “I won’t pretend it’ll be easy. But I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Fjord gives him a grateful squeeze around the middle. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Caduceus suggests Fjord pack a bag of whatever he’ll need for the week while he goes back to his apartment to get things ready for him, promising to clear out a drawer for his things. It’s not the circumstances Fjord ever pictured for his first time moving in with someone else, but the thought still makes his stomach squirm giddily.

He’s in the middle of sifting through his dresser—which he realizes with a twinge of affection Caduceus had refilled with his neatly folded clothes while he was asleep—when there’s a knock at his front door. He frowns, surprised at Caduceus already returning when he’d only left a few minutes before, and abandons packing to go answer it. It’s not Caduceus waiting for him on the other side, though, but Vandren, scowling sourly.

“Vandren, what are—”

Vandren holds up a hand to silence him, holding his other hand out towards him. It takes Fjord a few seconds for him to register that Vandren is holding a familiar orange, white-capped bottle in his open palm.

“I’m sorry,” he says gruffly as Fjord stares down at the bottle in disbelief. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t know she was gonna do that, Fjord. She said she wanted to talk. Make amends. I thought she was getting better. And maybe she was and this was just… well, whatever it was, I’m sorry. I saw these when I went to get my key back from her and believe me when I say I told her she needs to stay the hell away from you from now on. I should have listened to you.”

He clears his throat, looking somewhere between guilty and uncomfortable.

Fjord takes the bottle from him mutely, feeling a sudden itch in his blood for the little white pills that rattle around inside when he curls his fingers around it.

“I… um,” he swallows, wetting his lips and exhaling shakily.

“You okay?” Vandren says, sounding concerned. “You look… off.”

“Not feeling well,” Fjord mutters. “Thanks.”

“You still good to practice Tuesday?” 

Fjord forces himself to look up at him, the bottle still clutched tightly in his hand.

“What?”

“Tuesday,” Vandren says, frowning, “Practice. You _ sure _ you’re okay, kid?”

Fjord opens his mouth silently, pressing his lips back together and swallowing after a moment. He pockets the bottle so he doesn’t have to look at it, focusing instead on Vandren.

“Vandren, I think… I think I need to take a break. From swimming,” he clarifies when Vandren looks confused.

“What? Why?”

“I need time,” Fjord says, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “I, um… for a long time I thought what I did to my shoulder was the worst thing that could happen to me. But I think I needed it in a weird way… I think it’s given me some perspective. I think I was moving towards something for so long I didn’t know what to do when I didn’t have that anymore. But lately I don’t feel so much like I need to be moving towards something and… it’s nice. It’s nice just… being, I guess.”

He sighs. “You know how important you are to me, and I don’t want to let you down. And I’m sorry to spring this on you like this. It’s not… it’s not something I’ve so much been thinking about directly, so don’t think I’ve been holding this behind your back. I think I’ve just come to see it might be what’s best for me, which is something I haven’t thought much about before. Besides,” he adds, chuckling, “you don’t need someone my age taking up all your time. There are younger, faster swimmers who’d do much better with your training.”

Vandren is silent for a long moment, giving Fjord a heavy, considering look. At last, he lets out a small laugh, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I won’t say I’m not disappointed,” he says, “but I’m not gonna force you into something your heart’s not in. I don’t think it’s been in it for awhile, if I’m honest. I thought maybe you were just… getting over your shoulder. I guess I was hoping clearing things with Avantika might help, I dunno.” He sighs, giving Fjord a stern sort of look as he claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Fjord.” He looks indecisive, mouth openly mutely before sighing again and pulling Fjord into a firm, one-armed hug that Fjord is too taken aback by to return before he’s pulling away half a second later, looking uncomfortable.

“If you need anything,” he says gruffly, “I’ll still be around.”

“Thank you,” Fjord says, “I will.”

“You should still keep up with that workout, though,” Vandren says, prodding Fjord’s stomach disapprovingly. 

Fjord chuckles and rolls his eyes. “Alright, I’ll try,” he says.

Vandren gives him another appraising look and pats him on the shoulder.

“Sorry again about Avantika,” he says. “I’ll see you around, Fjord.”

Fjord nods and echoes the sentiment, waiting until he’s halfway down the first flight of stairs before shutting the door and leaning back against it heavily. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the bottle, turning it over in his hands, the contents rolling around inside as he does. There’s a jumbled mess of relief and panic in his chest, his heart thumping madly and his hands trembling even as the elation of Vandren’s acceptance lightens the weight in his chest.

“You don’t need it,” he mutters, clutching the bottle so tightly his knuckles pale. “It needs you more than you need it. You _ don’t _need it.”

He wets his lips, swallowing dryly, and forces his legs to support him as he walks to the bathroom. He opens the bottle and pours the rest of the pills into his sweaty palm, thumbing through them. He can practically feel the need in his blood, his shoulder aching as if to encourage him to simply lift one to his lips. 

He picks one of them up, turning it over in his fingers, and then dumps the contents of his palm into the toilet, tossing the last pill in alongside the others and flushing before he can change his mind. He watches them swirl around in the bowl for a few seconds before disappearing completely. Closing his eyes, he sits down hard and leans back against the vanity, tossing the empty bottle onto the floor and digging his palms into his eyelids.

“Fuck,” he mutters. His stomach churns and he empties his meager breakfast into the toilet. 

Leaning back against the cabinet, he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose, blowing it out through his lips in a rush. He’s not sure how long he sits there trying to reassure himself that he did the right thing, though he jolts out of his stupor when he hears the click of the front door open.

“Fjord?” Caduceus calls curiously.

“Bathroom,” Fjord croaks in response.

Caduceus’ footsteps quicken and Fjord looks up as he hurries into the room. Even now he can’t help but think of how inviting he looks in his scarf and hat.

“Oh, dear,” Caduceus says, dropping to his side. He wipes the cuff of his sleeve over the corner of Fjord’s mouth and pushes his hair off his forehead. He stills suddenly as his eyes land on the empty pill bottle on the floor, the color draining from his face.

“I didn’t take them,” Fjord says. “Vandren caught Avantika with them and brought them back. I flushed them.”

Caduceus stares at him, a look of relief and admiration coming over his face before he pulls Fjord into a crushing hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs. He holds Fjord at arm’s length, beaming down at him. “I can’t imagine how hard it was to do that but I’m so glad you did it. You did that all on your own, Fjord. That’s a huge step in the right direction.”

Fjord smiles weakly, nodding. He feels exhausted again.

“Why don’t you tell me what to pack?” Caduceus says, seeming to pick up on just how drained he is. “My car is outside waiting. And I’m going to make you dinner tonight, okay? If you’re not sick of Indian food yet.”

Fjord smiles and shakes his head, burying his face in Caduceus’ chest to hug him again.

“I love you so much,” he mumbles into his coat.

“I love you, too,” Caduceus says, running his fingers soothingly through his hair in a way that almost lulls him to sleep. “C’mon, let's get you up and packed and then we can go.”

Fjord nods reluctantly and allows Caduceus to scoop him to his feet to lead him to sit on the edge of the bed so he can instruct him what to pack. Within ten minutes Caduceus is helping him down the stairs and into the car, kissing him on the cheek before he shuts the passenger door and takes the seat behind the wheel. 

It all feels faintly surreal to Fjord. The drive to Caduceus’ apartment, the meal he cooks for him while Fjord sits huddled on the couch trying to ignore the occasional cramping of his stomach or throb of his shoulder, even brushing his teeth in Caduceus’ bathroom feels like he’s seeing things through a haze. It’s not until he’s unpacking his bag into the drawers Caduceus had cleared for him that it all hits him like a blow to the chest. He sits hard on the edge of the bed, clutching his face in his hands as hot tears slip down his cheeks.

“I didn’t know what kind of pillow you preferred so I got—what's wrong?” Caduceus sets the pillows he’s carrying on the bed so he can sit next to Fjord, laying his arm around him to hold him close.

“I fucked up,” Fjord croaks. A heavy wave of regret and self-loathing hits him and he digs the heels of his hands into his eyelids to try and stem the flow of tears.

“Come here,” Caduceus murmurs, pulling Fjord gently against his side, his fingers carding through his hair. “It’ll be okay. I know it doesn’t feel that way now. And it might take awhile, but I promise you it’s going to be okay.”

Fjord nods mutely even though right now he feels like nothing could be further from the truth. He shivers as a chill runs across his skin and his stomach churns angrily. He tries to stand and his legs shake dangerously under him, Caduceus catching him around the middle and giving him a questioning look that turns knowing the second he sees Fjord’s pale and sweaty face. He helps Fjord down the hall to the bathroom, rubbing his hand up and down his back as Fjord throws up painfully, his throat aching like someone has rubbed sandpaper over the inside of his esophagus. 

Caduceus watches him worriedly as he wipes his mouth and sags against the tub tiredly.

“It’s ok—“

“It’s not okay,” Fjord bites back, “stop saying it’s okay! Do you know how miserable I am?”

Caduceus recoils, shoulders drooping as he falls silent.

“I’m sorry,” Fjord says hastily, guilt hitting him in the stomach at the look on Caduceus’ face, hurt and confused. “I’m sorry, Caduceus, I didn’t mean—fuck.”

“It’s o—you don’t need to apologize,” Caduceus says quietly. “I’m trying to figure this out, too. Just tell me what you need, Fjord.”

“I need to not treat the one person who cares about me like shit,” Fjord mutters. “I’m sorry.” He pulls Caduceus into a hug, relieved when he gives with no resistance, his arms wrapping around Fjord’s middle.

“Maybe some sleep, yeah?” Caduceus says.

Fjord nods, allowing Caduceus to help him up and back to the bedroom so he can change before all but collapsing into bed. The next day is even worse. Caduceus guiltily tells him he can’t take another day off work but that he’ll be leaving early for New Years Eve and to call him if he needs anything. Fjord, still feeling horrible for snapping at him the night before, vows not to call him unless he’s on death’s door. And so he spends the entire day either curled on the bed, shivering and on the verge of tears from the way his whole body aches, or hunched over the toilet throwing up. He manages to sleep on and off throughout the day, the only break in the misery until Caduceus shows up shortly after three o’clock clutching a shopping back full of crackers and ginger ale.

“It’s what my dad always gave us when we were sick,” he says with a defeated sort of shrug when Fjord asks him what he has from his position balled on the couch under a blanket. “How are you feeling?”

Fjord shrugs. He knows he needs a shower, can feel the sweat and grime on his skin, but somehow putting himself through the ordeal of trying to stand long enough to shower sounds even more miserable than what he’s doing now.

“I was going to make soup,” Caduceus says as he tugs off his coat. “Are you hungry?”

Fjord shrugs again and he sees Caduceus’ whole posture seem to wilt on the spot.

“Okay,” he says, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” He moves to press a kiss to the top of Fjord’s head before heading into the kitchen.

Fjord stares mutely at the wall opposite him for a few minutes before pushing himself unsteadily to his feet and shuffling out to the kitchen, his blanket tight around his shoulders. Caduceus is standing at the stove stirring a pot of something steaming gently, glancing up warily as Fjord enters. Fjord steps up behind him and loops his arms around his waist, sighing contentedly as he rests his cheek against Caduceus spine.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m trying.”

“I know,” Caduceus replies, one hand resting on top of Fjord’s wrist. 

They sit across each other at the small dining room table, eating in strained silence until Caduceus reaches across to lay his hand on top of Fjord’s. Fjord pauses, looking up as he sets his spoon down.

“I’m so proud of you,” Caduceus says softly. “I don’t know what you’re feeling right now but I can see you’re struggling. And it’s not fun for me either but I know it’s so much worse for you. I’m sorry I can’t be with you the whole time.”

Fjord swallows, nodding silently as his throat grows tight and his vision blurs with tears.

“I hate it,” he says, his voice cracking. “I hate feeling like this and I hate hurting you when you’ve done more than I should ever ask of you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this.”

“Fjord. Look at me. I love you. Do you think I want to see you suffer? All day, all I could think about was you here, miserable, and not being able to do anything about it.” He brushes his thumb over Fjord’s knuckles. “What do you need? At least let me take care of you while I’m here. I have off tomorrow for New Years so we can do whatever you want.”

“I need a shower,” Fjord says honestly, cringing a little at the thought of how he must look.

“Why don’t I fill the tub for you?” Caduceus says, smiling. “A nice bath might help.” He gathers up the dishes and heads to the bathroom, Fjord listening to the gentle rush of water filling the tub for a few minutes before tottering after him, blanket still draped around his shoulders. 

Caduceus helps him undress and climb into the tub, smiling as Fjord groans at the feeling of the hot water against his skin.

“Here,” Caduceus says, tipping Fjord’s head back so he can pour a cup of water over his hair. Fjord shuts his eyes, nearly falling asleep as Caduceus carefully washes his hair, his fingertips rubbing into his scalp. His touch is exceedingly gentle, combing soap through Fjord’s lengthening hair with his fingers, humming quietly as he rinses the suds out. Despite the fact that they’ve already been in bed together, Fjord thinks it’s the most intimate thing he, or anyone else, has ever done for him. 

Caduceus kisses his damp forehead when he’s finished rinsing his hair a few minutes later. He settles on the floor beside the tub, fingertips brushing slow lines over his temple and smiling fondly as Fjord continues soaking in the hot water, struggling not to doze off completely.

“I wish it was under different circumstances,” Caduceus says after a few minutes of silence, the only sound the soft lap of water against the sides of the tub, “but I like taking care of you.”

“Mm, you’re very good at it,” Fjord murmurs sleepily. “I hope I can return the favor someday. Under better circumstances.”

Caduceus smiles and Fjord can’t help but lean over and kiss him.

He doesn’t manage to stay awake until midnight, dropping off soon after he climbs out of the bath and Caduceus helps him change into a too-large pair of soft pajamas that smell wonderfully like Caduceus. He doesn’t feel better exactly, but he feels more present during that hour curled up under the covers with Caduceus, trying to keep his eyes open to watch the coverage of the ball drop.

“It’s funny,” he mumbles, already in a haze of half-wakefulness, Caduceus’ fingers resuming their slow stroking of his hair.

“Hm?”

“I never saw myself wanting this sort of thing,” Fjord replies, yawning and curling deeper against Caduceus’ side. “But now I’m not sure what I’d do without it. Without you.”

Caduceus squeezes him around the middle and drops a kiss to the top of his head. Fjord smiles and lets the low hum of the television and Caduceus’ slow breathing lull him to sleep.

The next day isn’t as hard, if only for the fact that Caduceus is there to soothe him while he lies in bed aching and shivering, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead or rubbing his back while he doubles over the toilet. He’s more exhausted than he’s ever been, weak and pale and barely able to force himself into a sitting position when Caduceus brings him a bowl of thin soup to spoon carefully into his mouth, insisting that he needs to eat.

“You’re going to get dehydrated,” he says gently when Fjord tries to turn away, pressing his lips together. “You need to get liquid in you. Please?”

Fjord nods reluctantly and allows him to feed him for a few minutes before Caduceus seems to accept that he won’t eat any more, tucking the blankets around him and telling him to sleep before slipping out of the room with the bowl as Fjord falls back into a restless sleep. Caduceus is there when he wakes up, sitting propped against the pillows with a stack of files he’s slowly sorting through and filling out paperwork. He smiles faintly when he glances over and sees Fjord awake, shifting his files to the side so he can turn to him.

“Can I get you anything?” he says quietly.

Fjord shakes his head silently, a familiar sick swoop of guilt turning his stomach.

“You don’t have to do this,” he mumbles. 

“Do what?”

“You know what I mean, Caduceus.”

Caduceus gives him a considering look before sighing quietly. “I’m doing this because I want to, Fjord,” he says.”

“Why?” Fjord says in disbelief. “Why would you want to do this? This can’t be fun for you.”

“Of course it’s not,” Caduceus says, “seeing you struggling and hurting kills me. But I love you, Fjord, and I told you before, I’m not letting you go through this alone.” He pauses, pushing Fjord’s limp hair back off his sweaty forehead. “I’ll get you some water, okay?” 

He kisses the top of Fjord’s head and stands to head towards the kitchen. Fjord curls into a tight ball under the sheets and tries not to feel sick with himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for the delays in posting, I have been SWAMPED with work and miserably sick for the past few weeks. I will post as quickly as I am able for the next chapter ;-;

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for your encouraging comments on the first chapter!
> 
> I've got 6 chapters finished so hopefully will keep up with once a week posting :)


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